


The Changeling

by squeezenz



Category: Zoo (TV)
Genre: Between season filler, F/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-09 17:13:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 109,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14720256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squeezenz/pseuds/squeezenz
Summary: Picks up after the end of season two, excluding the epilogue.  AU building on scenes flashbacked in S3





	1. Ex Nihilo

Setting: Canon up to the end of Season Two, Episode 13 – Clementine. Excluding the 'Ten Years Later' epilogue. This story starts when Mitch dies. Except he didn't die, he was rescued by Abigail Westbrook and later forcibly changed into the personality of Charles Duncan, her cohort in creating the beacons and the drug -Melvatox B. Also, Jamie became Clementine's guardian for three years and lived with Logan through some of that time, before her book made her famous and rich in her own right. The story will diverge into AU sometime during that ten years gap, probably around the time Jamie starts her campaign to bring the Shepherds to justice, Logan joins up to become a New York police officer and Clementine is coming to terms with living with her grandfather, Max in Helsinki. Rated for adult situations, questionable consent, and general hanky panky.

Chapter One: Ex Nihilo

Part One – Mitch – The Shepherd's Base - Island of Pangaea, off the coast of South America.

He was lying face down on the floor, his vision blurred, partly from the blood stinging his eye, partly from the loss of his corrective lenses, he's not blind, far from it, but the world was certainly a little fuzzy beyond the focal length of his retina. He blinked slowly to clear his vision, able to see his hand curled up, level with his head, the expanse of grey flooring, splattered with his blood, but little else. He drew in a breath and it hurt. Something was tugging at his leg as if to drag him across the floor, but then a sharp pain suggested whatever it was, was actually eating him, alive. He wondered why he didn't experience more pain, his body feeling numb and cold, his brain unable to summon the will to move, preferring him to see the world from the perspective of the floor. He closed his eyes, images instantly swimming across his minds-eye, Jamie's sweet face staring back at him before she went through the door, obviously loathe to leave him, but trusting him to follow. When had he become the consummate liar? Jackson suspected the truth but didn't call him on it, recognizing what Mitch was doing and silently saying goodbye. Jamie, well, she always thought the best of him, a lofty pedestal he was a very long way from attaining, but she still trusted him, trusted his word, and he'd flat out lied to her. She'd be upset, hell, he was upset just thinking about her being upset. But Abe would see it though, would get them to Clem and give her the serum to protect her against the gas, would save his daughter's life. Clem would live, Jamie would live, they all would live...only, Mitch Morgan had to die for all that to happen. Damn, but he'd wanted to live, have a life, explore the possibilities with Jamie...too late now, his blood, smeared all over the floor, stretched out before him, the coldness told him he was still leaking, so it wouldn't be much longer. Drawing in another breath he wondered how long it took to bleed to death. He opened his eyes again. He wondered where the rest of the Razorbacks had gone to, once they broke into the security room. He'd seen half a dozen on the monitor, but only one seemed to be snacking on his leg, another tug reminding him he wasn't alone. Funny, he couldn't feel any pain, despite knowing the hybrid was making a meal of him. He blinked, his brain stalled on that one image of Jamie, half turned towards him, her eyes communicating her feelings for him. Their whole relationship had been one based on long, meaningful looks, sideways glances, flirtatious teasing and one kiss. Funny, the floor seemed to be getting softer, as if he was laying on a comfortable mattress, how odd? He thought about where their relationship would have gone next. Sex would have been good, he just knew it. Yeah, together they would have been dynamite. He thought back to his brief, interrupted, torrid encounter with Alison, a purely physical expression of their mutual frustration, his with the whole Jamie-Logan fiasco, hers from regret and a desire to find out what she missed out on. Neither were a sound basis for a relationship, but he was so angry and she was offering, so why the hell not? As it was, they were interrupted before either could get the other off, leaving him even more frustrated and now pissed at Alison more than ever. In the days that followed, he often wondered if Jamie had known, but if she did, she never let on and their relationship staggered back to something approaching friendship again, even tentative, speculative romance. She had taken his hand and said yes when he proposed going to Maine, so that was a start. In his mind he laughed at himself, stupid old man, dying on the floor, now she'll be able to be with Logan, handsome, young, vigorous, virile Logan, who was already besotted with her. He could just picture Logan offering Jamie a shoulder to cry on. His mind went blank, refusing to compound his self-flagellation by creating a picture of Logan and Jamie together - sexually. Whatever had been tugging on his leg was now standing over him, and he held his breath, feeling the weight of the beast press down on his torn-up back and shoulders. It would go for his neck now, tear out his throat, deliver the coup-de-gras, end his life. He felt the hard claws digging into his exposed skin and willed the end to come soon. It didn't.  
He heard a voice, not one he recognized, but someone was there in the room with him.  
Greg Mansdale skidded into the room, staring wild-eyed at the woman beside the cage.  
“Abigail! I've been looking for you. Everyone else evacuated. We've got to get out of here.” He stepped forward, reaching out a hand, but holding back. “Abigail, we've got to go.” He stared at the creature in the cage, a qazi-chimp that she was petting. “Oh,” he said, softly so as not to alarm the hybrid. “You did it. You made another hybrid.”  
Abigail Westbrook, daughter of Robert Oz, sister to Jackson Oz, stared lovingly at the tiny ape, her hand cradling the animal, which looked back at her adoringly. Abigail smiled.  
“I told you, Blue Diaspora is the only way forward. We need to make sure it succeeds.”  
Greg stared at her, his expression, hidden from her, one of disgust and fear. “We? I don't know anything about it.”  
Abigail gave a snort of derision. “Not you,” she told him dismissively, never taking her attention away from the young ape. Greg swallowed, a loud bang, like an explosion recalling him as to why he was still there.  
“I have a chopper hiding in Bay Twelve.”  
Abigail finally turned to face him. “Go, get it ready. We'll be right there.” She turned back to the cage to close it, ready to be transported.  
Mansdale turned to go then turned back. “Where are you going?”  
Abigail pulled over a trolley to slid the cage onto. “There's someone else we need.”

She approached the room that her hybrids had broken into, on her command. One was still there, standing over the body of a man. She could see he was badly torn up, blood coating the floor around and under him. The hybrid, a youngster, snarled at her.  
“No! Don't! Get away from him!” She waited for the beast to obey her and slink out of the room to join its pack. She approached the man on the floor and crouched down, feeling for a pulse. “Okay, Dr.Morgan, I'm gonna get you out of here. We've got a lot of work to do.”  
He didn't respond, so she tried to roll him onto his back, noting that his eyes were still open, but blank as his body went into shock from blood loss.

Mitch was fighting the greyness creeping into his vision. He could hear the woman's voice, but her words made no sense to him.  
“Jamie...” he whispered, her face swimming in front of him, telling him to hang on. His brain told him it was a hallucination, brought on by blood loss, but he didn't care, he stared at her, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. Hands were moving him about, shifting him onto his back, lifting his legs to drag him across the floor, more blood left in his wake. He stared up at the lights, some of them broken, some spluttering to stay alight, flashing and winking as he passed below them, marking his passage through the rooms. Whoever was pulling him along seemed to have no trouble, maybe he was so light because everything was gone now from inside him, maybe he was only a shell, a husk, dried out and empty of life. He blinked. His eyes were still working, so that was something. One of his arms trailed behind his head, his hair catching, snagging on cracks in the flooring, hair tearing when he continued to be dragged without releasing the snag.  
At some point, his eyelids slid shut and he felt like he was floating, his body free of his brain, weightless and painless, the only feeling he had now – one of cold. A breeze blew across his face, cool and damp, but insufficient to rouse him. 

Greg Mansdale gaped at the woman dragging the body across the floor by its legs. Physically, Abigail Westbrook was not a tall woman or heavily built. How she was able to do what she was doing, was beyond his comprehension.  
“Don't just stand there, help me!” she commanded upon entering the hangar bay.  
Greg leapt forward and took one of the legs, casting only a brief glance at the body, recognizing it as Mitch Morgan, before turning back to face the helicopter and the logistics of getting the man onboard.  
“Get one of the backboards, we'll load him up with that.”  
He dropped the leg and went to rummage in the back of the helo, pulling out the orange plastic stretcher and laying it down beside the body. Together they got the man onto it, then together they hoisted him up and slid the stretcher onto the floor of the helicopter.  
“Strap him in, while I go get Abendegos.”  
Greg followed her orders, only just finishing the job when Abigail returned, a cage on top of a trolley, the bottom tray loaded up with disks and hard drives.  
“Stow these and let's get out of here.”  
He nodded and helped her lift the cage, the creature inside chittering away to itself while they strapped it to one of the rear seats. After shutting the doors, he went to the back to the small loading hatch and shoved the stuff in there before locking it tight.  
Abigail was already in the passenger seat of the 'copter, Mansdale climbing on the small towing truck to pull the helicopter out of the hanger into clear space. That done, he ran to the helo and climbed aboard, going through the pre-flight procedure as quickly as possible. In his peripheral vision, he saw movement and looked up. The ground all around them was covered in Razorbacks, the animals sitting on their haunches in a perfect circle, watching them.  
“Take off now,” Abigail ordered, Greg getting the motor warmed up and the blades turning in preparation for taking off.  
“I'll be back, my beauties, wait for me and stay safe.”  
Greg looked over at her, but she wasn't speaking to him but to the hybrids beyond the windscreen. As the helicopter lifted off, the hybrids rose to their feet and watched as their pack leader flew away, quickly gone from sight over the island hills.

As one, the pack of Razorbacks turned and trotted across the landing strip, and into the thick jungle.  
He had no awareness of the passage of time it took to get him somewhere safe, somewhere they could patch him up, so that he didn't die. He was laying in a bed, or so he supposed. The air was warm and smelled of vegetation, as if he was in the middle of a forest or jungle, the light coming through the dingy window barely lightening the gloom of the space, the undressed wood of the log cabin leaching what light there was, dust motes swimming thickly through the stripes of sunlight. His skin felt tight but he wasn't in any pain, whatever they had him on it was doing a bang-up job. He stared up at the roof, noting the cobwebs strung from the rafters. Wherever they were, it hadn't been occupied in awhile, or maybe they just didn't give a fuck about cleaning. He managed to turn his head and saw a length of tubing snaking up to a saline bag hanging from a nail hammered into the wooden wall. He assumed it was saline, his eyesight still fuzzy without his glasses. He obviously wasn't in a hospital, but someone was taking care of him, he wasn't dead, after all. He didn't feel particularly thirsty so he was well hydrated and he was in no pain. If he had the energy he'd lift the covers and see if there was a catheter, but right now he was happy to float on a pharmaceutical cloud. He heard a noise coming from outside, mechanical, possibly a helicopter. When it was quiet again he wasn't surprised when someone entered the cabin and approached the bed.  
Abigail leaned over the bed and stared down at the man lying supine, but awake. “Good morning, Doctor Morgan, how are we feeling today?”  
He stared up at her, not recognizing her at all, although her voice seemed vaguely familiar. She was close enough for him to make out her features, the oval face, dark brows, thick wavy hair, full lips and clear, greenish brown eyes behind thick-lensed glasses, creating an attractive whole imbued with startling intelligence. He tried to speak, to ask where he was, why was he still alive? But apart from his lips moving, no sound came out. That didn't seem to upset the woman leaning over him.  
“Don't try to speak, you've had quite an ordeal, Mitch. Can I call you, Mitch?” She smiled down at him, sensual lips parting over strong, white teeth. His mind inconveniently overlaid her features with one that was more elfin, paler and topped with red hair. Jamie. He smiled at the image, Abigail not realizing and thinking he was smiling at her.  
“You'll feel better soon, Mitch.”  
He swallowed hard, wanting to say something, anything. When he managed to get a word out, it was confusing to anyone who couldn't see the face he saw. “Red...red hair...”  
Abigail frowned, then enlightenment dawned and she twisted her lips. “You're thinking about the girl on the plane? Too bad, you won't be seeing her ever again. You are dead, Mitch, dead to them, dead to the world. I'm the only one to know you are still alive. As far as anyone else knows, you were dragged out by the hybrids and consumed, your bones scattered in the jungle. No one knows you are here, with me.” She stroked a finger down the side of his face, the only part of him unmarked by her pets. “Sleep well and dream of your redhead, but think hard before you mention her again to me.”  
Another person entered the room, a tall, slim man who stared at him for a moment, then looked away.  
“They have a tank in New York, and another in Copenhagen. There are others, but those two are fully tested and functional.” Mansdale informed her.  
“He'll need to be in one for some time. The gashes are deep and not healing. If we are to recover him for our purposes, we need a tank.”  
“Then New York is the closest. Do you want me to contact the Shepherds and arrange it?”  
“No. It's better if I handle this one. They'd only ask you a ton of questions you're ill-equipped to answer. They'll want to know our plans, now the gas will have done its job. With my father now dead, and the fate of humanity in the wind, we can now unveil our ultimate goal. Keep an eye on him while I make the call.”  
Mansdale nodded, pulling forward a rickety wooden chair to sit on. Abigail left the room, shutting the door behind her.  
Mitch stared up at the newcomer, unable to place him although he looked kind of familiar, but not in those clothes and with shorter hair. Greg noticed his stare and studiously avoided looking directly at Mitch, aware that they had met on more than one occasion in the last year.  
Eventually, Mitch slept, the days passing him by as he slumbered in a drug-induced coma, blissfully unaware of the helicopter trip to a local airport on the Yucatan Pennisular. Of being transferred to a private jet, of flying across the continent to land outside New York. Of the trip by ambulance, a fever raging through his body, or arriving at the Shepherd complex, of being stripped, having the surgery to attempt to repair the worst of the damage with skin grafts, of the eventually immersion into a healing tank, his body adapting to the oxygenated water, floating, healing and dreaming.  
He dreamt about the cabin, but this time he was there with Jamie, they had been making love in the large bed, she had got up and put on one of his shirts while they talked about his school years. For some reason, they were on the run, the bag at the end of the bed containing money, the cabin just one of many bolt-holes that gave them shelter. Jamie was beautiful, no makeup, red hair long and wavy, her skin pale and soft, so soft he wanted to hold her against his body forever and never let go. She was speaking to him but he couldn't hear her, his body inexplicably unmovable, Jamie coming closer to tell him she was coming to get him, but why say that? They were already together, weren't they?  
The body in the tank convulsed, jerking in the fluid. Abigail, watching the technician fuss around the controls, was reminded of a cat she once had, that twitched and fidgeted in its sleep, chasing mice probably and dreaming its mousy dreams.  
“Results from the EEG are showing normal levels of brain activity. He's going to be in here a long time,” The technician told her, finishing his fiddling with the settings and stepping away from the tank.  
“I'm well aware of that. In fact, I'd be happy for him to stay in here for a year or more. Is that doable?”  
The technician looked startled, then schooled his features. “You want to store him?”  
Abigail nodded. “I have things to do, and I need him fully healed and ready to work when we pull him out of there, eventually.”  
“He'll need special care, special feeding and waste management.”  
Abigail stared the man down. “This is authorized. See to the arrangements.”  
The technician nodded and left the room, Abigail walking up to the glass and placing her hands on it. “Sweet dreams, Mitch. I'll have so much to tell you about when you get out of here.”

Part Two – Jamie - The Shepherd Base – Pangaea – earlier that first day.

The three of them burst back into the base, hastily searching for the serum to save Clem.  
Jackson was rifling through some shelves. “Anything?”  
Mitch was tossing boxes aside, searching for anything to point to where they kept the chems. “No.  
Nothing.” He sounded frustrated. Jackson decided to split them up, widen the search area.  
“I'm gonna check upstairs.” He left, the door banging behind him. Jamie went on searching, opening cupboard and drawers. Mitch picked up a box and flung it across the room.  
“Who are we kidding? The serum's not gonna be here.”  
“Hey, we are going to find it,” Jamie told him. “Then we're going to get to Maine, and you, me and Clem are gonna do whatever people do in Maine, okay?”  
Mitch glanced over at her, his anger dissipated. “Yeah.”  
Jamie held something up she'd found on a shelf. “What is this thing?”  
Mitch peered at it. “It's old X-ray film. This must be the stuff that Robert took from Pierce's place, in Holbeach. These are X-rays of the original Triple-Helix animals from 1895.” He picked up a notebook. “Look at this.” Jamie stood at his side.  
“It looks like Pierce knew that his X-rays were affecting the animals. He developed a chemical compound to sterilize the Triple-Helix animals, which is why the environmental events stopped.”  
Jamie looked puzzled. “But if he sterilized them, they couldn't reproduce. How'd the Triple-Helix survive?”  
Mitch frowned down at the journal. “It's possible that the Triple-Helix was only quieted in some of the animals, silencing its genetic instructions. Hence, the genomic fossils.”  
“So, Triple-Helix went dormant?” she asked. Mitch nodded.  
“Until the Mother Cell woke it back up.” They both turned when Jackson appeared through the door.  
“Found it,” he announced.  
At that moment a loud alarm started up and a female computer voice echoed through the empty space. “Perimeter breach in southeast sector.”  
Mitch stared at the speakers. “Oh, come on!”  
The alarm continued, the voice repeating the warning. “Perimeter breach detected.”  
The three of them jogged to the monitoring room, looking up at the screen and seeing a number of the Razorbacks attacking the door they'd come through only half an hour before.  
Jamie stared at the screen in shock. “Oh, my God. They're gonna break down the fence.”  
Mitch checked some of the other screens, noting the chainlink fence bowing. “Where did all those hybrids come from?” he muttered.  
Jackson toggled the sound dial, shutting off the sounds of barking and growling. “I don't know. If they storm that runway, the plane can't take off.”  
Mitch started to search the computer terminal and the bank of control panels. “If we don't get that power up to one hundred percent and get that fence working, they're coming straight for us.” He fiddled with several systems to divert their power to the security system. He let out a grunt  
“Okay, it's working. The system's redirecting power back to the fence.”  
Jamie had been looking around the room, then came over and dropped several items on the bench top. “I found these flash drives.”  
Jackson picked one up and slotted it into a terminal. Data started to scroll up the screen and he gasped. “Unbelievable.”  
“Jackson, what is it?” Jamie asked.  
“This is the data from one of my father's experiments. It looks like he was working on the TX-14 gas long before he met Davies. You know how the neutralizer made it so the poison only targeted the animals?”  
Mitch was interested now. “Yeah.”  
“Well, it looks like he was working on an alternate neutralizer,” Jackson related.  
Jamie looked puzzled. “Alternate how?”  
“This neutralizer isn't going to make it so that the gas is safe for humans. It's going to make it so that the gas is safe for animals.”  
Mitch frowned. “That's insane. Why would your father want to target humans?”  
Jackson shrugged. “I have no idea. It doesn't make any sense.”  
“What were the Shepherds doing?” Jamie asked. Mitch had been keeping half an eye on the hybrids, his face going pale before sitting down, nonchalantly swinging about to face her and Jackson.  
“You guys should probably head back.”  
“Fence back on?” Jackson asked, glancing up at the power monitor.  
“Almost,” Mitch explained.  
Jamie looked over at him. “Well, we're not going without you. Mitch, come on.”  
“Mitch, let's go,” Jackson urged him, cramming his backpack with the x-rays and flash drives.  
Mitch swallowed hard. “Listen, guys, if there's another power surge and that fence fails while we're out there in the open or-or while the plane's taxiing, we're toast, okay? I just need a couple more minutes.” He smiled and waved a negligent hand. “Get back to the plane, tell Trotter to fire it up.” He sent Jackson an intense look. “You got the serum, right?”  
Jackson patted his backpack. “It's in the bag.”  
Mitch held out some more pen drives from a drawer. “Take these. There might be some info on 'em about the Shepherds.” Jackson rummaged in his coat pocket and produced a gun. He held it out for Mitch.  
“Take it.”  
Mitch waved it away. “I'll be fine.” He watched as Jamie and Jackson made to leave, out the door they'd come in.  
“Hey, no, Jackson. South exit. It's faster.” Jackson nodded, his expression thoughtful. Not saying anything, he lifted his hand in a salute, then walked through and out of sight. Jamie made to follow him, but stopped to look back at Mitch, her heart in her eyes.  
“Be quick, huh?” she said, giving him a small smile. Mitch gave her a nod and a reassuring smile back.  
“Yeah.” Was all he said, watching her lift her hand in farewell, before following Jackson out the door. She had no idea it would be the last time she'd see him until years later. 

Part Three – Jamie – The Plane – Pangaea. 

They ran to reach the loading ramp on the plane. Jackson a little way ahead of her. Abe was talking on the phone to someone as he raced aboard, passing the big man and on into the interior. Jamie staggered aboard a minute later, the pack on her back. Jackson was talking to Logan as she entered the lab, dropping her pack on the gurney next to his.  
“....But this is most definitely a start.” Everyone turned to face the newcomer with Jamie's entrance.  
Jackson spoke again. “We found the genomic fossil serum.”  
Logan jumped in. “And we got Clem's location. She's at a power plant outside Portland.”  
Jamie smiled broadly. “Oh, that's amazing. Mitch is two minutes behind us. We have to head for Clem the second he gets back.”  
Jackson turned to the internal communication panel to speak to Trotter. “Let's get this bird ready to fly.”  
Jamie was rummaging in one of the bags. “Hey, you still got those drives?”  
Jackson turned back to answer her. “Yeah. Let's see if there's anything on 'em.”

Abe entered the upstairs lounge and approached the communication terminal. “Trotter close the ramp. We're good to go.” He informed the pilot, keeping his voice low. He turned around to watch Jackson and Jamie, with Logan and Dariela looking on, try out the flash drives on a laptop.  
“These flash drives are a bust!” Jackson said angrily, tossing the one he'd tried on the table top.  
“We can try to check the files, but...” Jamie stopped talking, the rumble of the plane preparing to take off making her look around. “Where's Mitch?”  
Abe gave a heavy sigh. “He called, and the hybrids...” the big man drew in a shuddering breath. “They were after him, and they...”  
Jamie rounded on him, her face frozen, fear making her heart hammer. “And what?”  
Jackson looked at his friend. “Um...Did you leave him there?”  
Jamie started to back away. Abe reached out to her. “Jamie...”  
Logan approached as well. “Jamie?”  
She looked at them all, eyes swimming. “What are you talking about? Where is he?” She lunged for the terminal to speak to the pilot. “ Trotter, turn the plane around! We have to go back!”  
Abe pushed her away and spoke. “Trotter, maintain course.”  
Dariela looked shocked. “Abraham, what have you done?”  
The big man ignored her and stared at the woman with wounded eyes. “Jamie, he's gone. He wanted us to be safe. He wanted us to get to Clementine, and he was willing to die to make sure that happened.” He paused and took a shaky breath. “He wanted me to tell you, thank you.”  
Jamie let out a harsh sob, tears blinding her. Her world was dissolving, the people around her changing into blobs of pain. She pushed them away, the truth ripping her apart.  
“How could you let him?” she accused Abe.  
Jackson spoke up. “He knew. When he told us to leave the lab, he knew the hybrids were there.”  
Jamie ran, batting at the hands that tried to stop her. She reached the top of the stairs and sat down abruptly, sobbing, hanging on to the cold metal as if a lifeline. It couldn't be happening, but it was. The plane was in the air and Mitch was still on the ground. They'd left him to die. She lowered her head to her knees and cried. So much hope, so much feeling, all extinguished, snuffed out.  
She felt someone sit down beside her, a male arm reach around her shoulders to pull her into his side. She wanted to resist, but all the fight had leached out of her.  
“We have to finish,” Jackson told her. “We have to get to Clem. That's all that matters now. We have to do it for Mitch.” His words, softly spoken and full of sympathy, only made her sob harder, turning her face into his solid shoulder while her heart broke into a thousand pieces, never to be whole again. 

Part Four – Jamie and Clementine - Portland, Maine. Refugee Camp.

“Our contact said Clem was moved here after the attack.” Jamie looked around the crowded hall, at the families and individuals milling around.  
Jackson groaned. “Yes, but with how many others? We have twenty minutes to find Clem”.  
Abe waved a hand. “So you guys check this area.” He set off with Dariela in the opposite direction.  
“Jamie, let's go this way,” Jackson indicated.  
She looked around the room, then set her mouth in a line. “Okay.” They set off together down the line of beds and bunks, looking for a blond haired girl.  
Dariela approached a table, the woman looking up at her. Dariela smiled. “Sorry, we're looking for a little girl. Eleven years old. Her name's Clementine Lewis?”  
The woman looked sympathetic, if harried. “I'll take a look.”  
Further down the room, Jackson snagged Jamie's arm and pointed.  
“Hey. Is that her?” Jamie ducked to see better.  
“I think so.” They approached the forlorn looking girl.  
“Hi. Clementine?” Jamie asked.  
“Yeah?” Clem looked up. Jamie sat down beside her.  
“I'm Jamie. This is Jackson. We're friends of your dad's”.  
Clem's face instantly started to crumble. “Where is he?”  
Jackson crouched down to her level. “Uh...your dad...uh...made this for you, okay? It's a medicine that you need to take.” He held out the case holding the needle and serum. “It turns out that there's still part of your Glazier's disease that...that we need to fix.”  
Clem suddenly looked cross. “So he'll fix me but not the animals? He promised.” She crossed her arms and looked mulish. “I don't want to see him.”  
Jamie had to forcibly swallow down her own grief. “Clementine...” she started only for the girl to cut her off.  
“I mean it. I don't want to see him. He said he would fix the animals and he didn't. They came to the safe zone. They killed my mom and Justin.” Her angry fizzled out and she looked shattered. Jamie put an arm around her.  
“I'm so sorry, Clem.”  
Clem stared down at her sneakers and sighed. “And now the people at the safe zone are gonna kill Henry. They're gonna kill all the animals in quarantine.”  
Jackson tried again. “Cl-Clem, um...” he cleared his throat. “It's very important that we give you this shot, okay?” he started to unwrap the needle.  
Clem flare up again, still militant. “What about Henry?”  
Jamie jumped in. “How 'bout this? We give you the shot, and then I promise you, we will find Henry. Okay?”  
Clem stuck out her bottom lip, then nodded. “Okay.”

They soon caught up with Abe and Dariela, the adults and child making their way to the kennels, where people were already crowding the cages, waving weapons and shouting.  
Clem pointed. “See? They want to kill the animals. You said you would help Henry!”  
Abe was looking up at the sky, then suddenly pointed. “Look, look, some of the birds from Pangaea.  
They made it. They will cure the animals.”  
Dariela muttered an aside. “Those animals don't sound cured.”  
Jackson looked around. “Yeah, well, domesticated animals take their emotional cues from us.”  
Dariela muttered again. “Or maybe they want to rip our heads off.”  
Abe shot her a fulminating look. Jackson raised his hands. “All right, let's find another way in.”  
Jamie looked at the crowd and placed a hand on Clem's shoulder. “I'll stay with Clem. Be careful.”  
Dariela opted to stay with her, the men walking hurriedly over to the kennels to get inside and see if the dogs were starting to respond to the presence of the birds. Within minutes they reappeared, Abe with an unknown dog on a rope, looking perfectly normal. The people near the cages surged back in fear.  
“Hey.” He waved. “Hey, no. The animals are cured. Come and see.” He indicated the dog at his side, its tail wagging fit to come off. “Look.” A woman stepped forward, the dog, on seeing her started to jump up excitedly. Abe let go of the rope and it ran to her, licking her face.  
Abe grinned “Look, they're cured.”  
More dogs appeared, all of them running up to their owners, ecstatic to be free again. Jamie watched as Clem knelt down to welcome her golden retriever, Henry, into her arms.  
“Henry!” Clem shouted, happy to have her pet back.  
Jamie looked around at the reunions of people and pets. “This is incredible. Mitch would've loved this.”  
“He really did it,” Clem cried out, laughing. “My dad cured all these animals.” She started to look around, searching. “Where is he? Where's my dad?”  
Jamie took Clem's hand and led her back inside the building, the others staying back. Henry followed closely and together, they all sat on the bed. Jame once more put her arm around the girl. “Clementine, I'm so sorry.”  
“None of this seems real.” The girl wiped at her face, letting out a shuddering breath.  
“Yeah,” Jamie agreed. “I know what you mean. But you should know what your dad did. All of the animals are going to be cured because of him. Your dad saved the world.”  
Clementine stroked her pet's silky ears. “My dad gave me Henry when I was just a baby.”  
Jamie nodded. “Yeah, I know.”  
Clem looked up. “I used to pretend he still talked to my dad. That when I was sleeping at night, he would...” she paused to give a sniff. “He would go tell him how I was doing. And then he'd come back and tell me stuff about my dad.” She shrugged. “Just made-up stuff.” She wiped her nose. “Like he invented chocolate milk. 'Cause he was always inventing stuff.”  
Barely keeping her own tears at bay, Jamie hugged her. “Yeah. Yeah, that he was.”  
Clem bent her head, letting the tears flow now. “But it was all pretend. Henry didn't know my dad.  
Neither did I.”  
Jamie swiped at her tears, drawing in a deep breath. “Well, I knew your dad. and he didn't invent chocolate milk, but he liked it. And he liked pickles and coffee.”  
Clem looked up into her face. “What else?”  
“He loved Soundgarden. They were a band. Maybe they still are.” She paused to smile at her own words. “Um...and he loved crossword puzzles. He loved all puzzles, really. He couldn't sleep if there was a problem to solve. Like...like the mystery of the missing cats in Brentwood.” She couldn't stop the tears flowing now. “And he loved you. He loved you so, so much. You were the very last thing he thought about.”  
Overwhelmed, she sobbed, Clem wrapping her arms around her and crying with her. They sat like that for a long time until Jackson appeared and crouched down. “How about we gather up your stuff, and Henry, and go see where your dad worked and lived.”

When they were back on the plane, Jamie took hold of Clem's hand and took her to where Mitch used to work. Henry padded along with them. Jamie indicated Mitch's swivel chair and Clem sat on it.  
“Was this his desk?”  
Jamie smiled and lifted her hand to indicate all of the lab areas. “Actually, this...this was all his.”  
Clem looked suitably impressed. Jamie waited a few moments then spoke again.  
“Can I...can I show you around?” When the girl nodded, they headed off, Jamie pointing out things to interest the girl and tell her about her father's work.

A short time later Jamie returned to the lounge, having settled Clem into her father's room, Henry at her side. Logan was leaning against the bar, the television on and showing the latest news. A news anchorwoman was starting her report. “As animals around the world have stopped showing signs of aggression, the IADG has just confirmed that they are responsible. Thanks to a last-minute development, the TX-14 gas was adjusted to cure the animals. Now we go to London where hundreds are celebrating...” Jamie picked up the remote and thumbed the mute button.  
“Lying bastards,” she snarled at the screen. Giving a sigh, she turned to face Logan.  
“I kind of expected you to be gone. Or for the plane to be gone.”  
Logan gave her a lopsided smile. “Jamie. I'm really sorry about Mitch.”  
Jamie ignored his extended hand and turned back to the silent screen.  
“Now that damn IADG is trying to take credit for his cure!” She said angrily. “It's wrong.”  
Logan approached her cautiously. “And the world should know who Mitch was and what he did.”  
He waited while Jamie wiped her face clear of tears.  
“Hey,” he called to her softly, getting her to face him. Jamie did so, but then spoke before he could.  
“Look, I know what you did for Clem and for Mitch. And I'm grateful. But I still need to know if any of it was real.”  
Logan flushed, shamefaced. “A lot of it. Most of it. I really am a pilot. I do have a sister, but I haven't talked to her in years.”  
Jamie flared up at him. “Kelly? Your girlfriend, the one who was attacked? But I'm gonna take that as a no.” She raised an eyebrow at him. Logan shrugged.  
“Yeah.”  
“What about your name?” Jamie asked, her arms crossed over her chest defensively.  
“My real name is Edward Robert Collins. But I always wanted to be Logan, because of Wolverine.  
When I was a kid I got beat up and picked on all the time, so more than anything I wanted to be Logan. I wanted to be indestructible. Be somebody that you couldn't hurt. Be the, uh...reluctant hero, you know.” He stared deep into her eyes. “I really liked being Logan with you.”  
Jamie stared back, not buying the act, but not so angry at him anymore.  
“We should go see how the others are getting on.” Together they went down the stair to the lab where Jackson and the others were still trying to get into his father's files.  
“Come on!” Jackson thumped the desk. Abe chuckled.  
“This could be quite some time, Rafiki.”  
Jackson sat there staring at the screen. “I have tried his birthday, his social security number. I tried our first address. I tried my birthday...” He paused, hit by a sudden thought. “Of course. It's always been about her.” He started to type out a word, the screen accepting it and starting to display files.  
“What was the password?” Dariela asked.  
“Elizabeth. His mother,” Abe told her.  
Jackson was scrolling through the emails. “Hey, this is the TX-14 gas formula that my dad sent to Davies.” He frowned at the screen. “Wait, I've seen that before. They're the same.”  
Jamie peered at the screen. “What is that?”  
Jackson pointed to a formula. “This is what Pierce used to fix the animals in 1895. He sterilized them. You know, wiped them out.”  
“What does that mean?” Abe asked. “The formula your dad sent to Davies is to sterilize the animals again?”  
Jackson shook his head. “No. The neutralizer protects the animals.” He stared at the screen.  
“Which means what?” Dariela asked. Jackson looked at the people in the plane.  
“Which means they sterilized us. All of mankind.”  
Jamie looked shocked. “Sterilized?”  
Jackson snarled back. “Yeah, that's right.”  
“As in nobody's having any more babies? Our child could be one of the last children born?” Dariela gasped, horrified.  
“Oh, my God” Jamie choked, hardly crediting what he was saying.  
“Unless it's already too late,” Dariela cried out, clutching at her belly and turning to Abe for reassurance.  
Jackson sat back in his chair, his face a mask of betrayal and hurt. “My father always said that one day, the animals would reclaim the planet. He made sure that the TX gas formula helped them to do that...”  
Logan spoke up, heatedly. “Yeah, by eliminating us!”  
Jackson covered his face with his hands. “My father just ended the world!”

Part Five – New York.

From Portland, Maine they flew back to Pangaea to recover Mitch's body. Jackson and Abe went to carry out the grisly task but returned empty-handed. There was no sign of Mitch, only evidence of considerable blood loss and signs of a body being dragged. Later, Abe handed Jamie Mitch's glasses, broken and blood splattered, giving them into her care. Grieving anew, they once more flew across the country, this time to return to New York.  
With the IADG taking the credit for curing the animals, there was nothing left for them to do but return the plane to its hanger, relieve Trotter of his duty, and hand over the keys to Allison Shaw, the original owner of the plane, before going their separate ways. All of them were heartsick about Mitch, grieving each in his own way over the loss of their friend, all of them angry that he wouldn't get credit for his work and sacrifice, Jamie vowing to herself to make sure his story was told, one way or another.  
The IADG welcomed them back, but immediately scheduled them for a debrief before they could scatter. The report of Mitch's death was relayed to his father, Max, who flew to New York to attend a commemorative service in Mitch's honor. The chapel was tiny, which suited everyone as the number attending was small as well. The service was short, more for Clem's sake, and a coffin was dressed in flowers, although no body was inside. Jamie was tempted to put his glasses with the flowers but changed her mind at the last minute, clutching them where they sat in her pocket.  
Afterward, Max thanked them all for being with Mitch to the end, and being his son's friends. He gave Jamie a special hug, well aware that she had felt more deeply for his son than anyone else. Max tried to connect with his granddaughter, but Clem was too sunk in her misery and clung to Jamie, turning her face away whenever Max tried to talk to her. In the end, he simply passed on his details to Jamie, in case she needed to contact him at some time in the future. He also promised to contact her regarding setting up an account for Clem's future expenses. Jamie had discussed the future with Clem, and together they had decided to return to the girl's hometown of Boston, and the house she'd shared with her mother and stepfather. With the animals revolution over, life would surely be returning to some sort of normal pattern, which meant Clem would be the sole beneficiary of her parent's property and assets. With this in mind, the decision to go back to Boston was one of the easier ones to make, in those days immediately after Mitch's death.  
Once the IADG were satisfied, it was time to say goodbye. Abe and Dariela planned to get married in the near future, and promised to get in touch when details had been finalized. Jackson was at a loss, deciding to stay on with the IADG and use their resources, to study what his father had done, albeit in secret. It was risky, as so far no one was entirely sure about what had happened, or who was responsible. A pact had been formed on the plane, between the friends, that the knowledge that Jackson's father, Robert Oz, had been personally responsible, through the Shepherds, for the sterilization of mankind would remain a secret between them. Jackson took possession of all the information pertinent to that fact - files, data, flash drives and his father's journals and papers. He'd continue to work on them for as long as he could, hoping to uncover a way to reverse the damage done. If the truth ever came out, Jackson would have to disappear or his life would become hell on Earth.  
Logan was the last, his position on the team shaky at best. His hopes, what little he harbored, were all pinned on Jamie allowing him to accompany her and Clem, plus Henry, to Boston. Their relationship was still rocky, barely a friendship, but still there was something between them and he intended to nurture whatever it was, until it became something.

It was the last day before they went their separate ways. Abe had applied for, and been accepted into, a course in Human Genetics at the University in Michigan, him and Dariela planning to stop and spend some time with relatives of hers, in Toledo, along the way to Ann Arbor. Jamie, along with Logan and Clem were leaving to drive up to Boston, a day trip if the traffic was not heavy, leaving Jackson to stay in New York for the time being.  
Logan was already behind the wheel, with Clem in the back with Henry. Jamie stood on the sidewalk and embraced the people she thought of as family. “You have my email, so don't be strangers.” She smiled at them mistily.  
Dariela hugged her tightly. “Good luck with your book. I'm sure it will be a success.”  
“I look forward to hearing about the wedding, so let me know, okay?”  
Dariela nodded and let her go. Abe was next, enveloping her in a bear hug and lifting her off her feet. “Take care of yourself, Jamie Campbell. You can always call on me if you want someone to kick Logan's puny butt.” He let her go. Jamie nodded, too choked up to speak. She turned to Jackson, who wrapped her in his arms and rocked her from side to side. “I'll email you once I'm settled.”  
“Do that,” Jamie whispered, then let him go. Waving, she got into the passenger side, still waving while Logan pulled away from the sidewalk until they were all hidden from view with distance. Slumping back in her seat, she covered her face with her hands to hide her distress from the girl in the back seat. A few moments later she dug around in her pocket for a tissue and blew her nose.  
“Better?” Logan asked, not taking his eyes off the road.  
“For now.” She glanced back at Clem who was staring out of the window, her hand buried in the thick fur of Henry's neck, the dog laying stretched out on the back seat, his head in her lap.  
“You okay?” she asked. Clem glanced up and smiled, not a full, sparkling smile, but one tinged with sadness and maybe relief.  
“We're fine.”  
“That's good. Speak up if you need anything, like a drink or a bathroom break, for you or Henry.”  
Clem nodded then went back to her contemplation of the view.  
Jamie turned back to face the front, her eyes sore from crying. She glanced over at Logan's profile.  
“Do you want me to keep on calling you Logan? Or would you rather be called by your real name?”  
Logan shot her a quick glance. “I'd prefer Logan, if that's alright? Logan Hale.”  
Jamie nodded, expecting that to be the answer. “Logan it is, then.”

Part six – Boston.

They started their irregular new life in Clem's old house, but it soon became clear that it wouldn't suit for long. Clem started having nightmares about birds and other animals, as well as about her mother and stepfather, the house full of reminders. Her broken sleep was also disturbing not only herself but Jamie as well. The three of them slept in separate rooms, Logan easily agreeing to the arrangement, aware that any rocking of the boat would see him tossed out, without a backward glance. He would get up in the night sometimes and see the light on under the door of the master bedroom, where Jamie slept. Often it was on because Clem was in there with her, the two of them consoling each other over their losses, Jamie talking about Clem's father to her, telling her what he was like, what he did, how he was about animals. Henry would be in there too, sitting on the carpet, his tail slowly thumping to show his pleasure in being once more with his family. On those nights Logan would return to his room and look with distaste at the single bed, in the spare room, wishing that things had been different and he was sharing Jamie's bed instead. Each time he wished, he told himself to be patient, to allow her to grieve and get past her loss. Mitch might have gained her heart, but he was dead and Logan wasn't, a plus in anyone's playbook. There was nothing he had to do except play house with Jamie, make friends with Clementine and prove his worth to them both. Easy. 

Jamie had gone through Audra and Justin Lewis's personal paperwork and found all the necessary documents, the wills understandably making Clem their sole beneficiary, but without death certificates, they had to try and get witness statements instead, again proving a test of Jamie's ability to squirrel out information from people. Eventually, she was able to track down enough witnesses to what had happened to the parents, and Clem, to satisfy the pickiest of lawyers and took Clem's case to Audra's solicitor to be settled. Fortunately, the solicitor hadn't been a casualty of the animal uprising and was able to take the case on at once, sympathetic to Clementine's plight. There was some question about Justin's parents, Clem's grandparents, claiming custody, but that was quickly annulled by the good folk themselves, still grieving for the loss of their son and too old to take on the care of a budding adolescent. When Max was approached, he gave pretty much the same answer, so with the legalities taken care of, plus the witness statements to back up Jamie's claim as guardian of choice, appointed by Mitch Morgan, Clem's natural father, it was all wrapped up. Clem owned the house and contents, plus any and all financial payouts from personal insurances, including a policy Mitch had, all put into a trust to be drawn on by Jamie for Clem's benefit, an agreement signed and sealed in the proper way of these things. When everything was settled, Clem was comfortably situated.  
When, weeks later, all the paperwork was finalized, they decided to start looking for somewhere to rent, right away from Boston and all its sad memories. While that was being explored, Jamie received a notice that the personal belongings of Dr. Mitchell Morgan were being forwarded to her. She already had everything of his off the plane, but these were from his apartment in Los Angeles. Jamie had notified the UCLA of his passing and left contact details, which they had used to send along his worldly goods into her possession. She had the boxes stacked in her bedroom, to go through when she was alone. There weren't many of them, the furniture having belonged to the faculty apartment and been left behind. That, together with what she already had, seemed a small amount of stuff to sum up a man's life. With a potential move in the near future, she made herself go through his belongings. Sorting them into what would be kept, and what would be given to welfare. All his trousers, footwear, and jackets, except for his leathers, she gave away. All of his t-shirts and some of his plaid and checked shirts she kept for herself, wearing them instead of nightshirts. Underwear and socks went the way of the suits, to charity. In a maudlin moment, she kept what remained of his cologne, closing her eyes every time she sniffed it, to bring his memory back in to focus. He had always smelt so good. His personal papers were largely to do with his academic achievements, now bundled up with the other family documents for Clem to keep a record of, after being shown them before they were packed away. Jamie knew she was being absurdly sentimental keeping his shaving kit and glasses, but she couldn't let them go. At least not right now.  
Throughout those early days, her thoughts and feelings about Logan had remained firmly pushed to the background. Clem needed all her attention, Jamie concentrating on the girl, the pair of them supporting each other as they worked through grieving for their lost loved ones. Logan was there, but he was like a silent support, joining in with outings, taking Henry for his walks, being a part of the mundane stuff, like housework and shopping. He didn't push to be included in the decisions regarding the legal stuff, or have an opinion to voice, about Jamie becoming the unofficial repository for the family's shit, including Mitch's bits and pieces. He took bags and boxes to deposit at the charity drop-off, and ran errands when required, he never said no to anything that was asked of him, and cheerfully put out the trash on collection day, without a word. When it all got too much for Jamie, he would make her tea and provide a shoulder to lean on, careful to keep all sexual tension out of the equation, ignoring her red eyes and woebegone expression, providing support when it was needed, and disappearing without needing to be told to go. When Jamie looked back, months down the track, to that difficult and sad time, she wondered how she would have coped if Logan hadn't been there to pick up the slack, on those days she just couldn't lift her head off the pillow.

Six months after arriving in Boston, they were locking the door to the Lewis house and handing the keys over to a rental agent to manage. Once more they got into the SUV and drove away, a moving truck loaded with their belongings tailing them. 

Part Seven – Emerson, New Jersey.

They had all discussed where they wanted to go, Logan included, and it was decided that somewhere among the outer suburbs of New York, with a good school nearby, would be ideal. Jamie was determined to write her book, about Mitch and about the whole animal mutation experience. Clem needed to get back into schooling, having missed so much in the past couple of years with what had been going on. Logan was kicking around a couple of ideas of what he wanted to do, and when he decided, New York was the best place, he figured, to make his ideas happen.  
So they were back on the road and heading south for the town of Emerson, New Jersey. Their rental agent, through her many contacts, had found them a small house to rent within walking distance of the local Emerson junior-senior high school, where they would enroll Clementine. She was a little young, being several months shy of her twelfth birthday, to start in the seventh grade, but given the upheavals and loss of so many students, they were taking enrollment in her age range again.  
The house was on a leafy street called Emwood Drive, the houses screaming middle class, the lawns all neatly mown and the homes tidy and cared for. Into this stolid suburbia arrived Jamie, Clem, Henry and Logan, the removal truck not far behind them. The local realtor met them with the keys and gave them a tour before their belongings arrived. There was some furniture, but Jamie already planned to replace what was there with new, before much time passed. The brick finished house had three bedrooms, a study, open plan lounge-sitting room and kitchen, two car garage at the front and mature trees lining the backyard. It was simple, quiet and anonymous. Jamie once more called dibs on the master bedroom, Clem choosing the one opposite that faced the back garden, while Logan accepted what remained. They spent the first few days unpacking boxes and arranging for new furniture, beds included, to be delivered. Each old item, once replaced, was sent to a storage facility owned by the realtor, there to be held until the next house needed furnishing for a client. Despite the odd time of year to be enrolling, Jamie and Clem went to the high school to see the Principal, who welcomed Clem and took her about to introduce her to her homeroom teacher during a class changeover. Clem, if not exactly happy to be back at school, was at least resigned to it, being polite and cheerful and saying all the right things. Jamie picked up the necessary paperwork from the office and they left to go home, checking out the local main street shops in a roundabout loop as they drove the neighborhood.  
Logan was busy in the garage assembling a free-standing flat-pack bookshelf. He greeted them as they got out of the car.  
“Hey, how'd it go?”  
Jamie hefted the enrollment pack with its legion of forms to be completed. “Just need to wade through the red tape and we're in.” She sent him a grimace, then walked by and into the house.  
“Can I help?” Clem asked, standing beside Logan and the half-finished shelving. Logan grinned.  
“Sure...pass me that hammer.”

Jamie sat in the office and started on the forms, filling in what she could, leaving blank what she'd have to ask Clem about later. With the chaos that had gripped the country for months on end, it was accepted that some paperwork would be missing, destroyed or just lost. Fortunately for Jamie, Audra Lewis had kept all the paperwork, to do with her daughter's health and welfare, which made filling in the health forms super easy. As she wrote, she chewed on her lower lip every time she had to write Mitch's name in one of the spaces, the form filling taking on a subtle form of torture. When it was done, she had to sort through Audra and Mitch's paperwork, plus pull out the lease agreement, utility contracts, all to be copied at the school office and included in the application. After an hour she was finished, letting her breath out in a whoosh, glad to have that chore done.  
Having not heard a peep out of Logan or Clem, she went to the garage door to see what was going on. A burst of laughter greeted her when she opened the door, Logan in the process of sprinkling wood dust over Clem's blond head as if it was pixie dust, Clem laughing and twirling around like a fairy and calling out, “I can fly, I can fly!” The shelf unit was, as yet, unfinished.  
“Having fun?” Jamie called out, bringing the game to a halt. Logan looked sheepish when she pointedly looked at the bookshelf, one eyebrow raised in true Mitch fashion.  
“It's nearly done,” he told her, Clem smothering a giggle when Henry let out a bark.  
“Give yourself a shake and come into the house, Clem, leave Logan to finish what he's doing.”  
Clem bent over and shook herself like a dog, dust flying everywhere. Henry danced around her, joining in the new game, Jamie batting at the air to clear it before turning to enter the house, Clem and the dog on her heels. Logan grinned and stared after them. There's been a definite twinkle in Jamie's eye and hope, as ever, sprang eternal that things were moving along, in the right direction, between them.


	2. From Nothing To Something

Part one – Ann Arbor, Michigan.

Dariela had been hardly showing a bump when Jamie last saw her. Now the former Ranger held a snugly wrapped bundle in her arms, smiling broadly at the new arrivals and chivvying them to get inside quick or let all the heat out of the house. Dariela ushered them inside and showed them where to hang their outerwear, while Logan carried in their luggage. The house was brightly lit and warm, in direct contrast to the weather outside which was dark, the days short and cold.   
“They promise us snow before the week is out,” Abe boomed from further inside the house. Jamie was having a cuddle with Isaac, their adorable one-month-old baby boy, the child content despite being handed around the newcomers. When Jamie had passed the baby on to Clem to hold, she embraced Dariela and accepted a smothering bear hug from Abe before proceeding into the expansive living room with its welcoming, roaring fire. Another person was sitting on the comfortable sofa but jumped to his feet when Jamie appeared.   
“Jackson!” Again she was engulfed in a hug, holding on tightly before letting go. She looked up into his face and frowned. “You look tired.”  
Jackson shrugged and flopped back down on the couch. “Only beat you guys by an hour or so.” Henry chose that moment to investigate the room, and snuffled around Jackson's legs, looking for attention. A yelp announced the bouncing arrival of another golden retriever, this one only a puppy, who jumped around Henry in exuberant excitement. Abe appeared, ushering Clem into the room ahead of him.   
“We just picked him up yesterday,” Abe explained, the puppy trying to climb on to Henry, who obligingly flopped over onto his side to take advantage of the heat coming from the fireplace and exposing himself to be thoroughly played on. “His name is Pizza.”  
Clem was enchanted and sat on the rug to pick up the tiny, excitable creature for a cuddle. Pizza instantly licking her face, his tiny tail wagging furiously.   
Abe leaned down to Jamie, telling her that Logan was taking their bags up to their rooms. Jamie nodded absently, her attention all on Clem and the dogs.   
Dariela appeared soon after, having put her baby down for a nap, freeing her up to spend some time with their guests. Abe passed around a tray of drinks, non-alcoholic for Clem and Dariela, beer and spirits for everyone else. Wonderful smells were drifting in from the kitchen, Abe bobbing up and down to check on whatever was cooking. Dariela filled them in on the tantalizing aromas.  
“He's been working on his African menu, so be prepared for steaks with Monkey Gland sauce...” a chorus of rude noises and laughter greeted her meal description. Clem screwed up her face, half torn between disgust and laughter.  
“Monkey gland sauce?”  
Dariela gave her a wink. “Made with the freshest Monkey glands, and they are hard to find in the local market.” Everyone laughed again, Abe rushing in to hear the joke.   
“Dariela is absolutely right. I had to search everywhere for fresh Monkey glands, dried won't do!!”  
His friends chortled and snickered at his expression of wounded dignity.

Around the table, the visitors discovered that Monkey gland sauce was actually a savory fruit chutney, mixed together with various spices, vinegars, and tomato sauce, served on top of the steak. Clem was almost disappointed when it was made clear that the Monkey glands were only a joke. 

Later, digesting the delicious array of African inspired dishes Abe had cooked for them, they sat around the living room and caught up on what everyone had been doing in the last six months since they'd last seen each other. Of course, they'd kept up email contact, but none of them were great letter writers and there was nothing like hearing the anecdotes in person, suitably embellished to raise a smile or a shocked gasp in the retelling.   
Abe told them how he was progressing with his course at the University, Jamie and Jackson keen to hear how he'd managed to bypass some of the usual entry requirements to be accepted.   
“Well, for starters I had the head of the IADG speak directly to the Professor and Interim Chair of the Human Genetics faculty head, Dr. Burke. After that I was able to apply, adding letters of recommendation from Mitch, Allison Shaw, and Max, as well as the confidence of the IADG as my backers.”  
“They did that for you?” Jamie asked, touched that Mitch had taken the time for Abe.   
“It gave me a shoe in the door, so to speak. I do have some qualification, as Jackson will confirm, but it was an irregular request, and they were gracious enough to overlook my shortcomings.”  
“How are you enjoying it?” Jackson asked.  
“It is fascinating. The campus is still working towards getting back to before the animal mutations disrupted everything, but I am confident that in a few years time I will have completed the course.”  
Dariela looked up at him proudly. “Dr. Abraham Kenyatta. I like the sound of that.”  
The conversation turned to Jackson. “Well, as you know I've been researching what my dad did, going over his notes, searching his files, keeping it all under the radar. I've moved out of the IADG building because it was just too easy for my work to be overlooked and exposed. I have an apartment...more like a shoebox, but it's enough for what I need, and I carry on outside work hours. They have me working with another team of...” He raised his fingers to make air quotes. “Animal experts, who are trying to piece together how the mother cell corrupted the animal DNA and created the defiant pupil, similar to the research my father did, only they don't go around blinding horses to do it.” The last was said with a bitter twist to Jackson's mouth as if he'd tasted something foul.   
In the silence that followed, Jamie got up and indicated to Clem it was time she got her head down. While Clem said her goodnights to the room, the two dogs got up from their position lounging in front of the fire and padded after the girl. The adults watched them go with amusement.   
“There'll be no room for Clem, if both of them sleep on the bed with her!” said Dariela, smiling.   
“More likely they will be in the bed, not on it!” Abe added, everyone else laughing with him.

Jamie sat on the side of the single bed in the small guest room set aside for Clem. It was next door to the one she would be in, so she'd hear if the girl had a nightmare or needed her. The two dogs, contrary to expectation, were happily settled on the thick rug by the bed, the puppy, tired out from all the attention, curled up against Henry's wide furry belly, already snoring.   
Clem came out of the bathroom and switched off the light, leaving only the bedside lamp on.  
“I can't wait to see what I'm going to wear for the wedding,” she gushed, stepping over the dogs and climbing under the covers. “Baby Isaac is so sweet.”  
Jamie leaned over her and smoothed the covers. “He is a cute baby. Remember, I'm just next door if you need anything in the night.”  
Clem nodded. “I know. Can I read for a bit?”   
“Just a little bit. It's been a long day. Half an hour?”  
“Deal.”  
“Goodnight, Clem.” Jamie leaned down and kissed the girl on the forehead, the two of them smiling affectionately at each other.  
“Goodnight, Jamie.”  
Shutting the door behind her, Jamie turned to find Dariela behind her. Her friend was shifting from foot to foot, obviously agitated. “Something wrong?” Jamie asked, keeping her voice low.   
“Possibly, I'm not sure. We weren't sure about your relationship with Logan, if you'd...well...if you were...um...sleeping together yet?”  
Jamie felt a flush of heat sweep over her, turning her face away to contemplate the picture on the wall next to her. “We are...and we aren't.”  
Dariela looked surprised and curious. “I need to know more, come on you can help me get the bed made up while you explain that bit of nonsense.”  
They spent the next fifteen minutes making up the double bed in the spare room, next door to Clem's. Logan had dumped their bags there and Jamie started to sort out her gear. Dariela sat on the newly made bed expectantly.  
“Come on, spill!”  
Jamie glanced over at her and sighed. “Yes, we sleep in the same bed, now. But it's just sex.”  
“O-o-okay. When did this happen?”  
“Just recently. Logan had been in the spare room, all this time, but...”  
Dariela rolled her eyes, it was like pulling toenails. “But?”  
Jamie raised her head. “You know how I feel about Mitch? But did you know that apart from that one kiss on the plane, we hadn't...well, we hadn't taken it any further.”  
“Oh. So...no sex?”  
Jamie shook her head. “He asked me to go with him to Maine, to meet Clem, so it was sort of unspoken that we would be taking things to the next level...but...”  
“He died,” Dariela stated baldly.  
“Yeah. Kinda killed the mood, for me at least.”  
“Not surprisingly. But now...Logan?”  
“As I said, it's just sex. I don't love him, although I think he feels something for me...”  
“Like duh!” Dariela snorted. “The guy is crazy about you. Clem likes him.”  
Jamie smiled. “She does, and he's been a rock, always there to do anything, never complains and...”  
Dariela leaned forward. “And?”  
Jamie blushed and grinned. “He's not bad in bed, either.”  
Dariela let out a small whoop and fell back on the bed, making Jamie laugh.  
“Hallelujah, the girl got some at last.”  
“Dariela!”  
“Hey, I'm the first to admit you don't have to love 'em, to have fun with them. He's a good-looking guy, head over heels for you, is nice to Clem, good for you and great in the sack. You won the lottery big time.”  
Jamie gave her friend a huff and eye-roll for good measure. “Quit it, or he'll hear you and it'll inflate his ego to unmanageable proportions.”  
“As long as his other proportions are in keeping with his ego, who cares?”  
They both gave in to muted peels of laughter, Dariela hiding her face in a pillow, while Jamie  
snorted and tried to muffle her laughter with her hands over her mouth. When they resurfaced, they got up off the bed and smoothed out the wrinkles, still chuckling.   
Dariela walked up to Jamie and reached for her hand. “Look. I know he's not Mitch, and that's okay. Take what's offered and enjoy it. Everything else will sort itself out with time and patience.”  
Dariela squeezed Jamie's hand then let her go. Jamie glanced briefly back at the bed, then headed out of the room, after her friend. 

The wedding, two days later, was a small affair held in a local restaurant, the whole place decorated with lights, flowers, and color just for the one occasion being held there that afternoon. The weather was still horrid, but nobody minded, all eyes on the radiant bride wearing a delicious rose and ivory gown beside her tall, imposing groom in a beautifully tailored tux, the couple making the photographers day, indulging his love of the exotic. The images incorporated an adorable baby in his own mini tux, along with an exquisite fairy-like teen for their bridesmaid, dressed to compliment the brides gown. It was almost a shame that so much vibrancy and joy was only witnessed by a handful of people, their immediate friends, and family, what little there was of it, plus the restaurant staff, celebrant and some university friends on the groom's side. Among the toasts given was a special one given by the groom for a friend, Mitch Morgan, who was no longer with them. Those that knew the history of the bride and groom, and their attendant friends, were not surprised to see a tear here or there in response to the emotional toast. The rest of the afternoon was given over to eating, drinking and dancing for the remaining hours before it was all over.   
Abe and Dariela left to spend a night at a local hotel, leaving their guests to drive back to the house and make free with whatever they wanted, Jamie and Clem sharing babysitting duties over Isaac, who was a dream and practically slept through the whole occasion.   
Later that night, when everyone had gone to bed, Jamie sat up in the living room, too awake to settle. Logan had gone up, telling her not to be too late, but she ignored his chiding. He meant well, but she wasn't thinking about him, she was spending the peace and quiet recalling all the expressions that passed over another man's face, how his eyes would caress her, even when all he was doing was listening, his way of scrunching up his face just before he delivered some withering set down, or sarcastic dismissal. How his hands stroked over her skin on the rare occasions they touched, of his unselfish bravery, always putting himself between her and danger, regardless of his own safety. She sat, staring into the embers that were all that remained of the flames, seeing in the dying fire a metaphor of her memories of Mitch, together with her love, fading over time to nothing but ashes.  
She didn't hear Jackson come into the room, only felt when he sat down next to her and put an arm around her. She thought it was Logan and shrugged him off with a flinch, her shoulders rigid.   
“It's me, Jackson,” he explained, Jamie twisting to look at him, an apology on her lips.   
“I'm sorry, I thought...” She turned away from him, wiping at her eyes.   
“Yeah. I was wondering how you were getting on with Logan?”  
“Given the sleeping arrangements?” she shot back.  
Jackson bobbed his head. “Maybe.”  
She shrugged. “He's good with Clem...”  
“Ouch. Throw the poor guy a bone, Jamie. Is he at least good in the sack?”  
Jamie let out a giggle. “You're as bad as Dariela. Yes, the sex is okay.”  
“Double ouch. Faint praise is worse than none.”  
Jamie hit him with her fist, Jackson reacting as if he'd felt it. Jamie grinned at him.  
“Idiot. What about you? Anyone in your life?” she asked. Jackson shrugged.  
“Only when I pay for it. I'm not ready...”   
Jamie squeezed his hand. “I know.” They fell silent, both feeling the deep loss of their loved ones.  
They sat together in companionable silence, watching the fire die away to ash. Jackson stirred and sat up. He held out his hand. “Come on. Time to pack it in and go to bed.” Jamie took his hand and he pulled her easily to her feet. Throwing an arm around her shoulders, they walked to the stairs and started up, parting at the top. Jamie opened her door and slipped inside. Her bedside light was on, so she snatched up her nightdress, one of Mitch's t-shirts, and slipped into the bathroom to change and brush her teeth. Fifteen minutes later and she was slipping under the covers, checking the baby monitor was on before switching out the bedside light. She had assumed that Logan was asleep, but as soon as the light went out he turned over to face her.  
“Have fun today?” he asked.  
“I guess.”  
“You look good with the baby.”  
Jamie turned to face him. “Is there a point to this?”  
“Not really, just saying.” He shifted his pillow to lift his head higher. “So you think I'm good in bed?”  
“Listening at keyholes again?”  
“Stairs. Was coming down to see if you were okay, but Jackson beat me to it.”  
“And you stayed to eavesdrop? You know what they say...”  
“Hey, I'll take faint praise any day, over no praise at all.” Logan shot back, an edge to his voice.   
Jamie let go a sigh. “What's on your mind?”  
“I think I've made my feelings for you pretty clear, so I want to know how you see this playing out?”  
“What?”  
“You're happy to have me around, you like what I do around the house and with Clem. You enjoy the sex, I know you do. So, when do we start talking about the future?”  
“You want to bring this up now?”  
“You don't?”  
Jamie closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. “Fine. Where do I see us? Do we have a future? I don't know, Logan. We've only been living together for six months, having sex in the last month. That promotes a friendship to boyfriend status, for sure, but beyond that...”  
“It's too soon,” Logan finished for her, his voice flat and pissed. “How long do I have to wait? Until you finish up all the cologne in that bottle? Until you wear out the last of his shirts?” He plucked at the sleeve of the t-shirt she wore. “What do I have to do to get you to see me?”  
Jamie chewed on her bottom lip, feeling his words like blows, then her anger settled into a lump and she sat up. “Until I stop seeing his face, superimposed on yours,” she told him coldly.   
Logan drew in a sharp breath. “Do you see him when I fuck you? Are you fucking him, when I'm between your legs?” He sat up as well. Jamie turned to face him.  
“Why do this, Logan?” She reached over to switch on the bedside light. “I can no more stop loving someone, any more than you can, so why do you expect more of me?”  
“He's dead, Jamie. Dead and gone. You keep him alive by wearing his gear, touching his belongings like they're sacred or some sort of bullshit.”  
She reached up her hands to push her hair off her face. “Are you threatened by a dead man?” She shook her head. “I will be over him when I'm over him.”  
“That's it? I have to put up with being the odd man out in this bizarre trio or accept that you're always going to be thinking of him when I'm fucking you.”  
“Yes.”  
“What did you have with him? You never even got to second base with this guy! One kiss and he's all you'll ever want? How fucked up is that? Did you ever see him naked?”  
“Shut up.”  
“Did he ever tell you he loved you?”  
Jamie had her hands over her ears in a useless attempt to keep out his words.   
“I love you, Jamie. I'm alive and I'm real, and I love you. We could have something pretty damn good, us and Clem...”  
“What do you want from me?”  
“I want you to wake up and stop making something out of nothing. I want you to stop hanging on to something that never existed in the first place. That's what I want.”  
Jamie turned away from him, his raw honesty burning like acid down her throat. Was what he said the truth? Was she building up an image of Mitch purely from what she wanted to have happened between them, not what actually had? She swung her legs over the side of the bed, grabbing at the baby monitor before getting up.   
“You're wrong, Logan. He did love me. He never said it, but he didn't have to. He showed me when he put himself between me and danger, when he took the time to explain something I couldn't possibly know. He told me he loved me when he did all he could to rescue me from Caraquet. His hug told me all I needed to know, and he confirmed it when he asked me to go to Maine with him. More than all that, he told the world he loved me when he gave up his life, so we could all escape and save Clementine.” She turned around to face him, her chin lifting. “He told me he loved me with every look and smile. I'll let go when I'm damn well ready to. We, Mitch and I, had something too and it was pretty damn good. If you can't accept that, Logan, then we're done...right now.”  
Logan met her stare and held it, but he was the first to break it, looking down at the bed cover in defeat.   
“I'll accept it, for now. But I won't wait forever, Jamie.”  
She didn't flinch. “I'm going to sleep on the couch, tonight. I'm sure you'll have more to say on the subject, but let's keep it for when we're home. I don't want to ruin these few days we have together with our friends.”   
Snagging one of the pillows, she left the bedroom and padded, barefoot, down the hall to the stairs. Only when she reached the living room and sat on the sofa did she realize her face was wet with tears.  
Part Two – Emerson, New Jersey.

Jamie was glad to be home again. She loved Abe, Jackson, and Dariela to bits, and they had all been polite not to mention the argument she'd had with Logan, or comment on finding her sleeping on the couch the next morning. They knew the situation, as much as anyone did outside of it, and respected her enough to let her sort it out. But now they were home and she was sure the subject would come up again, despite Logan saying he'd let it rest.   
Clementine had kept her thoughts and comments to herself, trusting the adults to sort out their shit without dragging her into it. Neither Jamie nor Logan changed the way they treated her, so that was sufficient for her not to worry unduly. If the truth was told, Clem had a little crush on Logan, her romantic daydreams allowing her to ignore the tension between her two favorite people. Her new school was working out fine, Clem making new friends as well as having a minor celebrity status once it got out that she was the daughter of Mitch Morgan, who helped cure the animals, as well as being under the guardianship of two others that helped.   
It also helped that half her class were seriously crushing on Logan as well, having seen him attend an indoor sports day, when Jamie had a cold and was unable to go. In all areas, Clem was as happy as a girl in her circumstances could be.   
As the year turned and they headed towards Spring, Jamie was putting more and more time into her book, compiling notes, researching the science, putting down everything she could remember about the early days, how they figured stuff out, where that took them next. While she indexed the facts and figures, she started to sketch out a storyline, crafting the events into an adventure that carried the characters around the world and back again, to exotic locations, unpicking the puzzle along the way of what was happening to the animals. When the broad outline was thrashed out, she started to flesh out the scenes. She had initially thought to use real names of the people involved, but that would mean getting releases for all the people involved, and with some of them dead, that made it impossible. Instead, she crafted the characters on the people she knew, but all with different names and appearances, with the usual disclaimer that any similarity to anyone living or dead was purely coincidental. There were two things she would not compromise on. One, that she wouldn't use a pseudonym or pen-name, she would have her own name as the author. Her other unmovable stance was on the title. She chose 'A Rumor of Crows'. She knew that the accepted wording was a murder of crows, but that was no less ridiculous than an unkindness of ravens. She remembered fondly Mitch telling her about a 'Clowder of Cats' and thinking, at the time, he was flirting with her. Whatever her reasoning, she chose that title and would stick by it.   
The small study in the house became wallpapered with post-its, string threading between the notes to show their connection, and place, in the storyline. Succinct biographies of each of the team, and the bit players, the background victims and animals involved, all meshed together to create a timeline of events and adventures. A large map showed the travels of each character, crisscrossing the world, ending back at New York, across the continent from where it all started for her in Los Angeles. Days and weeks produced more and more pages, Logan taking on anything to do with Clem's school activities, becoming the parent contact while Jamie worked. She treated it like the most important journalistic assignment she'd ever worked on, putting all her passion, all her energy into the project.   
As they approached their first anniversary in Emerson, the book was finally coming together. Chapters were being formed, pages mounting up and the whole book taking shape with every edit.  
Jamie had approached several publishers with the premise of her book, along with the knowledge of who she was and her claim to fame. As a journalist, she had long ago given away any pretense to shyness or a lack of confidence. After what she'd been through, and the heavy price paid, she had no hesitation in using whatever tactics would work to get her book in front of a publisher for consideration. She had articles published in back issues of the LA Telegraph if they wanted proof of her former occupation and ability to write, and she was the only person with the necessary information to write the tell-all story of the animal revolution from the inside.   
When she was satisfied with the final manuscript, she approached each publisher in person and presented them with, what she termed, their next best seller. Her charm and confidence carried it off and she was offered a contract with, if not the top publisher in the US, at least with one that would pull out the stops and market it to its full potential. They would also rush it to the top of their publishing list to take advantage of the recovering market, and the fact no one else had anything that came close in regards the recent crisis affecting animals around the world. Her publisher made only one recommendation, one that Jamie accepted. That she split the manuscript into two books, rather than one very large volume. Given the ground she had covered, it was relatively easy to leave the first book on a cliffhanger and have the other waiting in the wings to complete the set, to be released later once the first book had whetted the appetite of the readers. 

The launch of her book was given a date and she informed her friends. They had already received advance copies of the two book set, and feedback from them had been positive. Jackson had been cautious but praised her for her dramatic reconstruction of what had happened, plus his own characterization as Jonathon Osmond. Abe was equally tickled when he read about himself under the guise of staunch safari guide, Absolum Kenbuti. They had lived the events and adventures in the books, but that didn't take away how well Jamie had presented it, or how excitingly it read. She used a fair amount of artistic licence, juggled some of the places they'd visited, changed the names of the people involved, added a dash of humour and pathos to several scenes and generally told their story in a way that made even those who had witnessed it all, turn the pages hurriedly to see what happened next.   
With a bigger than usual fanfare, the first book was launched, Jamie committing to giving interviews to magazines, book review websites and journals, early morning radio and television slots and, eventually, turning up on daytime talk shows to promote it. Clem was excited to see Jamie's appearances, Logan recorder them during the day to play that afternoon when she returned from school. Jamie herself had to spend time on the road, away from home, on promotional junkets before and after the release, and when it was, as she predicted, an instant success and number one on most bookselling lists around the country, she became an overnight celebrity. Through it all, she protected Clem and Logan's privacy, although she couldn't stop Clem's school friends from mobbing her with requests for Jamie to visit the school and give a talk about the book, when she finally finished her promotional tour.   
For Jamie it was a whirlwind six months of book signings and junketing back and forth across the continent, the account she'd set up, for the proceeds from the sales, showing an embarrassing but very pleasing balance as the weeks went by and her book sales skyrocketed. When the second book was released, nine months after the first, her success was cemented and sales went through the roof. There was talk of a film deal, with several studios making offers. The books were translated into a number of languages and sold around the world, Jamie taking her small family on trips to Europe during the summer and autumn months, visiting Asia along the way, before flying back home in time for Christmas.   
After a quiet holiday season at home, she demanded a period of peace from her publisher. The books were doing well, there was talk of creating an edited version suitable for the teen market and even an idea for a picture book for children. But for now, she needed a break to assess where she wanted to go from there. Plus Logan was getting antsy again. 

“Look, I don't think it's unreasonable to expect an answer to my very logical, and not unexpected question?”  
Jamie sat on the couch and looked down at her hands, which were currently being held in his warm clasp. He had just asked her to marry him and her mind had gone inconveniently blank. He tugged on her fingers.   
“Jamie?”  
She slowly withdrew her fingers and looked up into his earnest, handsome face. “Logan...”  
He must have seen something in her face because he got up off the couch abruptly and started to pace. “Not again, Jamie, not again. I think I've earned...that I deserve a proper answer from you, not some lame excuse or tired argument.”  
She sighed internally. This wasn't the first time they'd gone through this scenario. He had asked her before all the success of the books, he'd asked her when they went to Europe, in the most romantic setting anyone could have asked for, for a marriage proposal. Every time he'd remind her he wouldn't wait around forever, that it was time they moved forward in their relationship, that he'd more than proved he was trustworthy, that he loved her, that she loved him...didn't she?  
Didn't she?  
Clementine had refused to be drawn into taking sides. She was coming up to thirteen with all that entailed, with more than enough on her plate without adding Jamie and Logan's dramas to them. The same with their mutual friends, who emphatically refused to be drawn as to who they were for, or against. The world was moving forward, moving on, but somehow, every time the question of her moving with it, of taking that final step, to committing herself to the relationship and leaving behind the spectre she carried close to her heart, her mind balked and she dug in her heels.   
Unspoken, but starting to take on a bigger significance in her mind, was a desire to right perceived wrongs, to redress the falsehood's and obfuscation she had uncovered in her research, and lay the blame squarely where it belonged, in regards the death of Mitch Morgan and the sterilization of the human race. She wanted revenge for her perceived losses, and she now had the means to pursue some of those avenues. It fizzed and buzzed in her brain almost every waking moment, skittering down those strings of facts and figures still decorating the walls of the study, tempting her down a rabbit hole that she knew, instinctively, that Logan wouldn't want her to follow. And that was the thing. Until she found a way to bring the Shepherds to justice, for their part in how everything ended, she couldn't lay Mitch's ghost to rest either.   
The cologne had been used up months ago, the shirts laid to rest in a bottom drawer for safekeeping, his personal belongings tucked away where only she knew they were. For the sake of peace in their home, she didn't flaunt her grief under Logan's nose, and that had given him the entirely false impression that she had moved on. The reality was the reverse of that. Yes, they lived together, yes, they enjoyed a healthy, mutually enjoyable, sexual relationship together, and yes, they both worked to give Clem a stable and happy home together.   
For most couples, that would be more than enough for a basis of marriage. And yet still, she couldn't say that one word that would cement their relationship and make Logan the happiest man in the world.   
“I'm sorry...” Jamie started to say, only to be cut off.   
“Fuck, your sorry's, you know where you can shove those endless, fucking sorry's. This is it, Jamie, this is that moment I warned you would come, that line that would appear that you would need to decide whether to step over and move forward, or stay behind and lose everything.”  
“Logan, that's overdramatic, even for you.”  
“I'm not joking, Jamie. I have gone above and beyond in this...this, whatever we have, and I think I deserve an honest answer from you.”  
Jamie looked him in the eye. “You have, Logan and you do.” She paused, her hand unconsciously mirroring the unrest in her mind. “I just cannot say yes.”  
He stared at her, his eyes flicking over her features before coming back to her eyes. She saw the moment he gave up, his usually bright and piercing eyes dulled and he hung his head. The room was silent, the atmosphere heavy with regret and defeat. Then he lifted his head.  
“Then, I guess that's it. I was holding off telling you, hoping...anyway, I'm putting in an application to become a member of the NYPD cadet corp. I will be attending the police academy in Queens, and will hopefully be in the next influx of inductees next month. Until that is confirmed I will continue to live here, but I will take back the spare room. I think I've been more than patient, and we gave it a good shot, but I said at the outset, I wouldn't wait forever, Jamie.”  
“You did tell me that, Logan. I think being a policeman will suit you very well.” Jamie gave him an encouraging smile, ignoring the roaring rush of relief that stormed over her, making her feel as light as air, as if she'd been inhaling pure oxygen. She was free. 

They all three traveled down to Queens when his approval came through. They stayed at a local hotel and enjoyed a couple of days exploring the area, while taking in some shows suitable for Clem to attend with them. When it came to saying goodbye, Clem wept and clung, her affection for Logan genuine and heartfelt. She was proud that he had finally chosen a career for himself, not at any time blaming Jamie for his going, Logan careful to explain his reasons to the girl, without souring her relationship with Jamie. Like Jamie writing her book, this was something Logan now felt he had to do, and Clem was okay with that. Her initial crush had faded as familial familiarity and growing up made itself felt, her romantic interests fixed firmly on boys her own age, now she was legitimately a 'teen' with all that went along with that appellation.   
Jamie gave Logan a long hug, their farewell kiss bittersweet and sorrowful.   
“I'll always love you, Jamie girl.”  
“I know. I hope you find what you're looking for, Logan.”  
They parted. Jamie and Clem watching him enter the building, before they turned away to catch a taxi back to their hotel.

Part Three – Shepherd facility, Somewhere outside New York City. Eighteen Months Ago.

Abigail watched as they extracted him from the healing tank. His body was thinner than when he went in, but that was expected. The scars on his torso and legs, arms and shoulders had healed as well as they were going to. The skin grafts had taken well, saving his life, but he would always carry stark reminders of what had happened to him, even if he never remembered. His memory was why he was being taken out of the tank. The tank had kept him alive, but now he needed to be made ready for reintegration back into the world. To facilitate that, he could no longer be Mitch Morgan, with all those messy memories of people he'd known, and the morals likely to be opposed to what she wanted him to do. So, they had to go. The way to do that was to use an experimental biomechanical device that could, when it worked properly, subvert a subject's normal personality and overlay it, with a carefully crafted alternative personality construct, that would suppress all those annoying problems with the original, and allow for reprogramming. If the operation was successful, and his health restored to optimum, she would have the perfect assistant, one that retained all the brilliance of Dr. Mitch Morgan, would be MD if he'd finished his last years of residency, fully qualified Veterinary Pathologist and all-around bright guy when working with DNA and chemistry, but none of his personal memories of people or places. He would also be missing a moral compass, all Mitch's righteous pomposity would be removed and his sarcastic, coldheartedness brought to the fore. In the years since the bio drive had been first trialed, unsuccessfully, it had been modified and Abigail was confident it would do its job, without turning Mitch's brain to scrambled egg. If it failed, well, everyone already thought he was dead, the experiment would just put a period to the fact.   
The technicians laid Mitch on a gurney, his body limp, his face lax. An assistant used a towel to dry him off, stripping off the thin shorts and, once dry, wrapping a blanket around and over him. Abigail accompanied the gurney as it was pushed through the tank-room door and into the corridor beyond. Down the hall was a recovery room, and Mitch was lifted into one of the hospital beds. There his care was taken over by a medical team who hooked him up to a drip, checked on his breathing, brain activity, and blood pressure, then inserted a catheter. Abigail watched their progress, his eyes always checking Mitch's face for any sign of consciousness. One of the team saw her watching and approached.  
“He's not likely to come out of his coma for a few hours yet.”  
“What about his general condition?”  
“Not spectacular, but nominal.”  
“Enough to stand up to a little brain surgery?”  
The assistant looked startled but didn't comment. “Probably.”  
“Good. Shave his head, and prep him for surgery. I'll let the surgical team now he'll be ready for them soon.”  
The medic nodded and turned away. Abigail doing the same and leaving the room, satisfied that her plans were going ahead as scheduled. 

The operation would take a couple of hours, consisting of prepping, drilling into the skull, placing the bio drive in the exact position, activating it, then closing up. Abigail watched it all through the observation window. The last time this procedure was done, the man under the knife had only lived for a week, the bio drive in his brain short-circuiting and frying the patients brain, taking out even his most basic of automatic processes so he forgot how to breathe and died. This was a better end than the one before him, who'd died choking on his own vomit because he'd forgotten how to eat without inhaling, quite literally, his food into his lungs. The project was shelved as unsolvable, but a few modifications made in the last year while the patient was in the tank, would hopefully solve the outstanding issues. Only time would tell. When the surgeons were done, the patient was wheeled into recovery, his pale bald head heavily bandaged, a contrast to the growth of dark beard covering the lower part of his face. Her face twisted and she approached the recovery nurse.   
“Get rid of that, would you?” She pointed to the patients face. The nurse looked aggrieved for a second, then nodded.  
The chief surgeon approached her.   
“It went well, I think. The new covering should hopefully stop the automatic rejection of a foreign body, and also prevent the immune system from attacking it like a tumor. If he survives, when he wakes up he'll be a new man.” The surgeon gave a thin smile at his weak joke, Abigail arching a brow in response. “Yes, well, good luck with this one.” He inclined his head and was gone.   
Abigail smirked and looked back at the patient. Once they were able to bring him out of the induced coma, they'd be able to assess him and, if all was well, start him on therapy to get him on his feet and usable. She could hardly wait.

A voice was urging him to wake up and open his eyes. It took him a moment to process that action, then light appeared as muscles worked and his eyelids lifted. He blinked, screwing his eyes up so they let in only a little light at first, then as they adjusted, opening them fully. A woman was staring down at him, her face alive with interest and curiosity. Equally curious, he stared back.  
“Do you know where you are?” she asked. A quick search of his recent memories drew a resounding blank. He shook his head slowly from side to side. When he did that he realized his head was bandaged, the fabric rasping against the pillow supporting him.   
“Do you know your name?” the woman asked, a smile playing around her lips. Again, a quick dip into his vacant brain produced nothing of any use. He turned his head from side to side.   
“Do you know who I am?” her final question just made him frown and glare at her. She smiled back, pleased by his responses.   
“Then I will tell you. You are in a private hospital, your name is Charles Duncan and I am Abigail Westbrook, a colleague of yours. You've been unwell for a very long time and had to have an operation recently. Now that you are awake, we can start therapy so you can recover and get back to work.”  
He didn't query what she said, what profit was there for her to lie to him, so he accepted everything as the truth. He was Charles Duncan, and he had to get better, that was all he needed to know.  
His return to full health started that day, with physical therapy on his wasted arms and legs, as well as speech therapy to get him talking. His recovery was monitored and Abigail had verbal reports on his progress every day. By the end of the first week, he was talking normally, eating normally and able, with help, to carry out his bodily functions normally. The end of the second week was when he relearned to walk again, still with help, but exercises were building up his lost muscle mass with help from a special diet to aid in his body's recovery. By the end of the month, he was almost back to his former self. He was still lean, but his legs and arms were wiry and able to easily support him. His hair was starting to grow back, evident when the bandaging was removed, and he seemed to sport a permanent scuff on his cheeks and chin, hiding the dimple there. He also now wore a pair of dark-rimmed glasses, but despite that, he looked little like the man he'd been. Mitch Morgan was truly dead. Abigail looked upon her prodigy as more along the lines of Mitch Morgan's dangerous twin brother, more laconic, leaner and with no sarcastic come-backs. In fact, Charles Duncan appeared to have no sense of humor at all, which, as Abigail mused, was probably not a bad thing in a henchman. He also seemed to be lacking any sexual awareness, at least around her. There was no look of speculation or interest, no attempt to flirt or gain her attention, no overt looks, not even a knowledgeable leer when he looked at her, it was almost refreshing. As far as he was concerned, she was simply someone he worked with, he had no further curiosity about their relationship beyond that. Her female ego was a little miffed, but nothing else. He would make the perfect working partner for her, no need to worry about avoiding certain situations, or saying anything that could be construed in a sexual context. What a novelty. It almost made him attractive to her, but she preferred her sexual partners to be more subservient, hairless and younger, all of which he was not. Taciturn, egotistical, dry, humorless and dour, were all words she'd use to describe his new persona, Charles Duncan. He accepted as Gospel truth whatever she chose to tell him, about his past, about his present. He never questioned his situation or why he was doing whatever it was she asked of him. If he had any issues, he kept them entirely to himself, and if he had questions, he never asked them. If he was plagued by mental images he couldn't explain, he never mentioned them and he displayed no interest in the future, beyond the results of the next experiment. He quickly caught up on the latest scientific journals, refreshing what he already knew, while picking up and retaining anything he didn't.

When it was considered he'd regained his full health and faculties, Abigail started to test him, setting small challenges to see how he solved the puzzles that had stumped the Shepherd's best scientists. One was trying to create a chemical compound that would stimulate the language centers of the brain in an attempt to mentally control animals. It wasn't necessary to believe such a thing was possible, it only needed an understanding of the brain chemistry and what was needed to over -stimulate and target specific parts of it.   
As a precursor for this, part of Duncan's re-education involved bringing him up to date on the entire hybrid project, code-named Blue Diaspora, an exercise in gene manipulation initiated by Robert Oz and carried on by Abigail, along lines that Robert had abandoned as uncontrollable and dangerous. It was where the Razorback breed had come from, the same creatures that 'killed' Mitch Morgan on Pangaea. Now Abigail intended to expand the parameters of the project, and create an entire pantheon of hybrids, some land-based, others aquatic in nature. The Razorbacks and Abendegos were the first examples of what was possible. The new breeds would all have different, manipulated DNA, physiology and incorporate unique adaptions, some super-enhanced in one particular area, others with specific behaviors to be nurtured. Ultimately they would all be able to communicate like a hive mind, in a way already demonstrated by the animals subject to the defiant pupil. The mutation had allowed them to communicate over great distances, and it was Abigail's theory that the same ability was latent in humans. It was an accepted fact that some people seemed to have an uncanny ability to relate to animals, almost telepathically, and the animals responded to them in ways they didn't with others. It was to find a chemical way of advancing and enhancing this ability that she wanted Duncan to explore and provide a compound for. 

“How's he working out?” Greg Mansdale entered her workspace while she was writing up her notes.  
“Duncan?”  
“Of course.”  
“Why not go and see for yourself?” Abigail challenged.   
“He creeps me out.”  
Abigail let out a peel of laughter. “You can't be serious. I think you're just unsettled by the fact that, as Mitch Morgan, he was a formidable adversary, as Charles Duncan, he's better in every way possible.”  
“Yeah. Not at all creepy. I also need to talk to you about Abendegos.”  
Abigail closed her journal and gave him her full attention. “Go ahead.”  
“We need to find a better enclosure for him. Like all great apes, he's outgrown the current exhibit, but his development is such he can't be farmed out to just any old Chimpanzee park.”  
“Abendegos isn't simply a chimpanzee.”  
Mansdale threw out his hands. “Yes. That's the problem. It's obvious to anyone with eyes that he's not normal, in regards his species, plus his attempts to talk are just wrong. There was a reason why we never went down this arm of research and development, your father was quite clear and emphatic about it.”  
Abigail crossed her arms over her chest and regarded him narrowly. “Abendegos has a place in my overall scheme, but you are right, he has outgrown his current living arrangement. I'll see what I can arrange for him before the end of the week. Will that satisfy the critics?”  
Mansdale looked relieved. “It will. Thank you, Abigail. I was sure you'd understand.”  
Abigail watched him leave, then turned back to her journal. Her pet project had been her greatest success and worst nightmare. From the sweet creature he'd started out as, Abendegos hadn't avoided the worst aspect of growing into his teen period and the temperament that went along with that. He was abnormally large and strong, far more so than any of his breed, or other great apes, for that matter. He wasn't socialized to associate with his kind, knew nothing other than living among humans and caged. He was too specialized to ever be released into the wild, and the older he got the more of a danger he became to the humans caring for him. He was displaying unusual mutations, already standing on his hind legs more like a human than an ape, and growing extended incisors of a size that no ape had ever had before. He was smart, but also cunning and had to be treated with caution at all times. The problem of what to do with him had been preying on her mind for weeks, with no real solution presenting itself. Given a choice, she would have arranged for him to be sent to a refuge for great apes, but it was doubtful he'd be able to assimilate with his ape cousins, and they would probably not be happy to have him around. It was a quandary.   
If she had the time she'd get Duncan to design a purpose-built enclosure. Fuck it, she'd get him to do it anyway, then she could find a property to be used for the purpose and give Abendegos, if not the life he should have had, at least one where he could be what he was under the best of circumstances.   
Duncan was in the lab, using the fume cabinet to mix a couple of volatile chemicals, his hands gloved and his face masked, complete with protective goggles over his glasses. She watched and waited for him to finish before interrupting him. He was aware of her presence, but it was a given that he'd complete what he was doing before stopping to find out what she wanted.   
While she waited, she pondered the situation they now found themselves all in. Abigail was aware that she was not well liked by her peers, even less so after her father died trying to save his son, Jackson. The Shepherds and the IADG had always worked in direct opposition to each other, meaning that her father's defection to save Jackson, as well as synthesize the cure for the animal mutation, put her in the uncomfortable position of being an insider, but not completely trustworthy – the daughter of the traitor. Not only had her father facilitated the manufacture of the vaccine for the animals, he had also changed the formula of the TX-14 gas, fooling everyone, including his patrons into thinking it would have a selective effect on the human population, thus limiting its ability to reproduce for a period of time. Instead, he had effectively killed off the entire human race with one stroke. The last generation comprised only a few thousand children, giving them only a few decades before the bulk of the current generation died out, leaving them to fend for themselves, as well as a world so unstable in regards the storage of nuclear material, oil, and other lethal chemicals, the original purpose of the gas had lost all meaning, been robbed of its purpose in restoring the world to a better state by thinning the human population. It had never been intended to kill off everyone, mass genocide on a global scale, it was only meant to give the planet a breathing space for the surviving people of all countries to concentrate on righting so many of the wrongs in dealing with pollution and over-population. The Shepherds had wanted to halt the unsustainable growth of consumption, wanted to wake up the governments and rulers that something had to be done now, that things couldn't go on the way they were. The complete annihilation of the human race had never been the goal, but that had been decided for them, and for everybody else, by Robert Oz. Sure, the animals would survive, but with the poisons and pollutions left behind by the humans, how long before the animals succumbed as well, and the planet was left empty of all but the plants and insects and maybe a few jellies in the deep oceans.   
“You wanted to speak to me?” Duncan's deep growl pulled her out of her musings and she got up off the stool.  
“I did. I wanted to ask you to design a new habitat for Abendegos.”  
“How big?”  
“As big as you think he might need. I'm thinking along the lines of an outdoor, enriched environment for him, strong enough so he can't get out, but still needing some human interaction in regards feeding and health care.”  
“Cost?”  
“Unlimited.”  
“What climate would he be going in to?”  
“South American jungle.”  
Duncan grunted, acknowledging her parameters. “Fine. When do you want it?”  
“Yesterday,” Abigail replied, watching his face for a reaction.   
“I'll get right on it. You're happy for me to put my current work aside?”  
“Yes. Immediately.”  
Another grunt greeted her request, his dark brows pulling together as if he was about to disagree, but despite whatever he thought internally, he didn't speak it. Abigail pouted her disappointment at his lack of reaction. Seeing her expression, he raised a dark brow in response but otherwise remained distant. Abigail smiled.   
“Let me know how you get on. You know where you can find me.”

His dark eyes watched her from behind his glasses. She had obviously expected something different from him, but he'd failed to deliver. He pondered that for a millisecond then discarded it as irrelevant. After writing up his notes and securing the sample he'd been working on, he closed down his current project then went to get cleaned up. He'd have to get more information on the ape, Abendegos before he could start designing a habitat for the creature. His keepers should be able to answer any questions he had.

Chimpanzees are not one of nature's cute or beautiful creatures in their natural state, and Abendegos, being a hybrid mix was even less attractive than usual. The hair that usually covered a Chimp was sparse or missing, his skin looked aged even though he was only a couple of years old, and he had long fang-like eyeteeth, less canine and more like a sabre tooth protruding from his mouth, which was completely at odds with his basic breed. Certainly, chimps and other great apes had prominent incisors, top and bottom, but nothing on the length or shape that Abendegos displayed. And then there was his sheer size. He was as broad as a fully grown gorilla and as tall as a man, topping over six feet. His physicality was what struck most people, the first time they saw him, that and his almost hairless state. It wasn't unheard of for aging apes to lose their hair the same way human's do, some apes had been known to develop alopecia and lose all their body hair, but this didn't apply to Abendegos. He was just unusually hairless, even less than a human, having no groin, armpit or head hair either. Other disturbing mutations were evident in his hands and feet. The gripping thumb on the hands and big toe on the feet were less elongated, and more human-like than normal for an ape, and then there were his attempts at human speech. Many birds were able to mimic human speech patterns with surprising accuracy, but few mammals had that ability. They could vocalize, but not form discernible words. Abendegos could. He picked up names quickly, and repeated them back, pointing to the people the names belonged to, showing his understanding of context. Apes in the past had been taught sign language with varying degrees of success, but those animals hadn't been able to articulate the words they were signing. Abendegos could do both, sign and speak the words. It was disturbing and unsettling for those that worked and interacted with him. Abigail had pushed the limits to the point where the creature didn't fit in anywhere, neither in the human sphere or the animal world. In the animal world chimps lived to around thirty-one to thirty-seven years without medical intervention, in captivity, they could live up to fifty years. Without a viable enrichment plan included in his management, Abendegos was slated to live a long, lonely and boring life.

Once Duncan had all the information about the animal, how he chose to regard the creature, rather than an obvious chimp-human hybrid with something else thrown into the mix, he was able to start designing the optimum habitat to give the ape a comfortable life. He presented his draft proposal to Abigail a month later. She promptly passed them on to her agent, who managed the Yucatan peninsular property, to start work on the project straight away. The habitat would provide her special project with a comfortable living environment, at least until his brethren fulfilled her greater plan, the scope as yet unknown to anyone outside of her head.   
Abigail had a dream, that one day the world would come under the domination of a new species of animal – the hybrid. It would be so unique it would require its own scientific classification, apart from all other animals known to the Earth. It would have its own range of phylum and classes, orders and suborders, genus and family. Together, they would create a super-organism that would subordinate all others, including humans, on the food chain and completely change the face of the world. Humanity and all its excesses, its greed, and cruelty, waste, and poison would be swept away. She whimsically thought that when future alien explorers visited the planet, what they discovered would make them lump humanity in with the dinosaurs, that mankind, like the reptiles, failed to evolve and left behind only a small paragraph, barely a bookmark in history to be remembered by.  
It was a grand dream and, with Duncan's help, she would bring it all to fruition over roughly a ten-year time frame. She almost wished her father was still around, to see it come to pass at her instigation.

Duncan returned to his ongoing work in refining and testing a formula, to enhance and support the part of the brain supposedly associated with extra-sensory perception. Attempts to enhance human ability in this area had been tried many times in the past, for military purposes, for personal enlightenment and in both modern and ancient times to talk to the Gods. Most of those developed were based on hallucinogens – psychoactive drugs that changed perception, expanded consciousness, plus radically changed moods and behaviors, like the Mexican cactus juice, peyote, used for over five thousand years, and more recently, lysergic acid diethylamide or LSD. All could be broken down into chemical recipes, or formula, that in turn could be experimented on to produce something approaching what Abigail was asking for.   
How he was supposed to test the final product was a problem he didn't worry about. He was the chemist, the cook, not the sample tester. He just had to make sure, that whatever he created in his kitchen wasn't lethal. Dosage, in these matters, was always the key. He also rarely thought about the outside world beyond where he ate, slept, and worked. His days were spent combining and recombining long strings of molecules, creating a formula that, more often than not, had to be discarded for a variety of reasons. When he wasn't working, he was eating in the shared dining hall, usually alone, as the other employees made no attempt to talk to him, or interact in any way. After eating and working, there was bathing and sleeping, all of them done to a regular schedule of his own devising, without the benefit of any oversight, the Shepherds apparently happy to leave his actions answerable solely to Abigail. If they were at all curious about him, they kept their questions and remarks to themselves or addressed them to Abigail, something that rarely happened. He did sometimes wonder where all the chemicals he got to play with came from. Some were, he was sure, illegal in most countries around the world, others so rare as to be almost unobtainable through normal channels. But despite that, he had samples of everything, his workshop a junkie's dream of a drug-fueled heaven. Maybe because it was all available, he felt not one iota of interest in indulging in any of them for himself. The doctor in him knew the effects of most of them, even if only anecdotally, plus he'd treated addicts during his early residency, as well as the unfortunate offspring of addicts. He'd also been there with patients in the late stages of addiction, and seen the side effects, in all their gruesome tragedy. With those images as a warning, he had no burning interest to test the results of his recipes on himself. That said, he found it endlessly fascinating to break them all down to their cellular structure and play around with them on a molecular level.   
He had several samples ready for Abigail to begin trials with, giving them just the letters of the alphabet to designate each specific formula, a, b, c, and so on. With that task now completed, until he got the feedback from the early trials, he was free to start work on the next challenge Abigail had set for him. She had already drawn up some rudimentary designs for a sonic beacon that worked on the same principle as a dog whistle, essentially. It worked by sending out a pulse frequency that was inaudible to humans but would attract specific species of hybrid towards them, depending on which one she wanted at which site. It also incorporated a sonic barrier, to prevent anyone tampering with the machinery or shutting it off. The barrier would be made up of a frequency range combining specific brain waves patterns so that anyone not on the right frequency would be repelled to the point of unconsciousness if they tried to approach. A number of the beacons were already under construction, the framework, similar to a radio tower, placed on the top of very specific buildings, chosen according to Abigail's personal criteria, to provide the maximum destructive capabilities. The beacons would not only attract living hybrids, it would also act as an activation signal for the surrounding nests, hidden in places that had been abandoned or shut up, perfect for storing a selection of hybrid embryos just waiting to be awakened when the time was right. So much of the plan was only in the early stages, existing largely on paper or in Abigail's journals, awaiting the finance or manpower to get them underway. All of it was untested and cutting edge, building from scratch systems and machines that were entirely original. It was exciting and challenging and stretched his mind to explore previously abandoned ideas and concepts, leaving him worn out, mentally, at the end of each day so that he fell asleep with no dreams, or nightmares, at least none that he remembered the next morning.


	3. Then There Were Two

Part One – Emerson, New Jersey.

Jamie listened unashamedly at the door to Clem's bedroom. The girl was on her mobile to one of her friends, discussing plans for Clem's fourteenth birthday coming up in a couple of weeks time. Clem had already asked for a night out with her friends at a local restaurant, Jamie happy to book the place out and arrange for a DJ for the music. But now Clem was organizing a second party, one that Jamie wasn't supposed to know about, one her friends were throwing for the girl, one that Jamie and other parents would probably not approve of if they knew. Hence the listening at doors. Whatever the friends were plotting it was so far under the radar they hadn't texted, tweeted or sent any emails about it. How did she know this? Jamie wasn't so old not to remember her own hijinks as a teenager, sneaking out when the house was asleep, skinning dipping in pools at ungodly hours of the night, palming small items and getting away without paying at the local Walmart, and of course the biggies – drinking and smoking weed. As far as Clementine knew, Jamie was a liberal parent who seemed to respect her privacy and didn't bombard her with endless interrogations about her movements or actions. Clem, like all teenagers, thought the world revolved around her and that all adults were dolts, ancient dinosaurs who didn't understand the complexities of modern technology and were as boring as dust. To be fair, Clem didn't think Jamie was boring, but she did regard her guardian in the same light most of her friends regarded their parents. Jamie, of course, was far from being boring, and nowhere close to being a dinosaur. Clem's phone had a tracker installed before it had been in her possession a week. Her computer had software installed that tracked the places she visited on the web and was regularly checked for the latest emails, even those deleted. If Clem went into a chatroom, Jamie was aware of what they talked about, if the girl posted on any of her social media websites, Jamie was able to access them and see the content. Jamie was always careful not to let on to Clem what she was doing, or how, but nevertheless, Clem had a technology savvy guardian angel shadowing her, keeping tabs and hoping an intervention wouldn't be necessary. When talk about her upcoming fourteenth birthday was tabled, Clem had been enthusiastic about the restaurant idea, feeling it was a very grown-up thing to do and would impress her friends. It had all been arranged without incident and now they were just waiting for the date to arrive. Normally, Clem would walk about the house after school and chat with her friends openly, Jamie listening with half an ear, but making no comment about whatever she heard, lulling Clem into thinking Jamie wasn't interested in what she talked about with her friends. Despite this, when Clem started taking her phone and closing her bedroom door, alarm bells rang and instigated Jamie listening at keyholes. She gave the kids points for keeping the keg party on the down-low, but Clem was a rotten liar and always blushed when making something up to explain the complete opposite to what she was going to be doing.  
So, Clem was a little wary when Jamie started to talk to her about underage drinking and alcohol poisoning, topics not normally part of their breakfast chatter.  
“When I was fourteen, I remember being invited over to a friends farm for a party. It didn't seem to be anything special, just a bit of a barn dance, the music we liked to listen to and the usual party food and soft drinks, kids stuff. My uncle was told there'd be parents there to supervise, and we'd all be sent home before eleven o'clock. When I was dropped off, there were no parents, only the friend's older brother to supervise, along with a gang of his college-age mates. There was a DJ, and food and stuff, but there was also a keg, hard liquor, and weed.”  
Clem was staring at her goggled eyes, her muesli forgotten. “What did you do?”  
Jamie shrugged and grinned. “I jumped right in and grabbed a beer. I'd had a few sips of uncle's but not a full bottle. It was exciting, there were a lot of older boys there and I didn't want to be thought a chicken, so I swallowed the first plastic cup I was handed. I nearly choked and threw up there and then, but I kept it down and handed the cup out for a refill.”  
“Oh, my God. You are so cool!”  
Jamie pulled a face. “Hardly. I was a stupid little twit. The music was so loud you couldn't hear yourself think, let alone talk, and they kept plying us younger girls with beer until we were nearly falling over drunk, completely wasted.”  
Clem looked a little less impressed now. Jamie continued her story.  
“I had gone outside to cool down. The room kept spinning and I felt nauseous, so I leant against the side of the barn and tried to calm down. A couple of the college guys came out and were talking, joking, and stood near to where I was. I heard everything they said.”  
Clem leaned forward, her eyes wide. “What did they say?”  
“They were laughing about how the little kids were getting shitfaced, the guys as much as the girls.”  
“Bastards,” Clem spat. Jamie nodded.  
“Then it got worse. They started to talk about what they'd like to do to some of my friends, the cuter ones, as they called them. The longer I listened, the sicker I got until I genuinely threw up, the noise alerting them to me being behind them. They laughed and went back inside, but by then I knew what I had to do.”  
Clem was hanging on her every word. “What did you do?”  
“I called my uncle to come get me, telling him to get in touch with my friend's parents as well.”  
Clem gaped at her. “You didn't!”  
“I did. Minutes later, my uncle was there, then more cars turned up with more parents and the whole thing was shut down. I was so sick. I was crying, snot was coming out of my nose...I was a mess. Of course, I was duly punished, grounded for weeks and suffered one shit of a hangover afterward, but at least none of the girls at the party were raped or molested.”  
Jamie looked at Mitch's daughter with understanding eyes. “I know it seems cool and exciting to have a secret among you and your friends, but if it involves alcohol and underage drinking? I can't stand by and let that go ahead.”  
Clem bowed her head. “How did you find out?”  
“Never mind how, I just did. I haven't told anyone else...yet, but I will if I think this is going ahead.”  
Clem's shoulders slumped and her lips turned down, anger replacing shame at being caught out. “It wasn't going to be as bad as that...” she started to argue, but Jamie shut her down.  
“They are ALL as bad as that, often worse. You start mixing kids and beer and you're asking for trouble. The worst case scenario would be someone getting so blitzed, they suffer alcohol poisoning and die, a second worst case is a young girl, your age, being taken advantage of and raped because she passed out and can't defend herself. A third worst case, you pass out and someone takes your clothes off or draws things on your face with a black marker and takes photos, then blackmails you or posts them on the internet. Do I need to go on?”  
“We just wanted to have a little fun...” Clem said in a small voice.  
Jamie sighed. “I understand that, Clem. And when you're of age you can do what the hell you want, with as much alcohol as you can consume, not that I recommend that, but at fourteen? No way.”  
“Fine. I won't go.”  
“Not only will you not go, you will tell me who is organizing it and where.”  
“I can't!” the girl cried out. “Everyone will know it was me!”  
“No, they won't. But I can't sit back and let some other kids be put at risk because you're embarrassed.”  
Clem threw her hands up in the air, now royally pissed off. “OKAY! Can I finish my breakfast in PEACE!”  
Jamie got up from the table and went to get herself another cup of coffee. Clem would tell her the details and a potentially disastrous keg party would be averted. She returned with her refill and sat down at the table.  
“Look. How about this? The keg party is scrapped, but you can have a beer on Friday night.”  
Clem gave her a grimace. “What's the catch?”  
“You have it here, at home, and I'm there too.”  
Clem gave her a look then nodded. “I just wanted to know what the fuss was about.”  
“I know. So, chips and beer, and Friday night football. Is it a date?”  
Clem laughed. “How about pizza and beer and a movie?”  
Jamie held out her hand for the girl to shake. “Deal.”

Long after Clem had left for school, Jamie pondered the conversation and had to wonder if all the future trials of teenagehood would be as easily resolved. 

The Friday night beer and pizza went fine, with Clem declaring that she didn't know what all the fuss was about, and that beer tasted completely foul. They still enjoyed the pizza and movie, but beer was now firmly off the bucket list. Her party at the restaurant was a huge hit, with several of her friends confiding that they were glad the keg party had been canceled, then telling tall, lurid stories about other parties and what had happened at them. It never came out that Clem was the snitch, so she was able to enjoy her birthday without any retaliation from those disappointed it, the keg party, had been canned.

A month after the birthday party, Jamie got a letter from a solicitor regarding custody of Clementine. It seemed that Max Morgan had decided to rethink his position, and now wanted Clem to come live with him, her grandfather, as she was his only remaining blood relative.  
“I don't want to go!”  
Jamie sighed and rubbed at her forehead. “I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you may not have a choice in the matter. Max is your grandfather, and he is within his rights.”  
“But dad wanted me to stay with you, you told me so.”  
“Yes, he did. But I'm not a blood relative, and although Max agreed to my custody of you at the start, he's now changed his mind and wants you to go live with him in Helsinki.”  
“I'll hate it, I just know I will!”  
“You won't hate it. It's a beautiful city with a ton of interesting things to see and do...”  
“I'll have to leave all my friends!” Clem wailed.  
“You'll make new friends, just as you did here.”  
“I hate it already,” Clem retorted, scrubbing at her eyes, tears flowing freely. “I won't be able to see you or Jackson, or Abe..and..and what about Henry?”  
“We could probably send Henry as well, I'll have to look into it.”  
“You're not going to fight this?” Clem accused, sniffing.  
“Clem, he is your grandfather, and I think that traveling and seeing another bit of the world isn't a bad thing. Kinda like a school trip, only longer.”  
“You just want to get rid of me!” Clem bawled, sobbing openly. Jamie clasped the girl to her and rocked them both.  
“Of course I don't want to get rid of you, but I also don't want to have you dragged through a lengthy custody case when it's not necessary. I love you, Clem, you know that, and I only want what's best for you. Always.”  
“They won't speak English, and...and I don't speak..whatever it is...they speak...”  
“Finnish, I believe.”  
“I...just...know...I'll hate it all...” She sobbed harder, soaking Jamie's blouse.  
“No, you won't, and anyway, I'll be able to visit or you'll be able to come back...” she stopped, the lump in her throat choking her. Mitch had never had a good word to say about his father, but when Jamie met him, she saw a father desperately trying to reconnect with his son, who he loved very much. Max wasn't a bad man, he was a just...a man. Was he the right person to take custody of a hostile fourteen-year-old? Probably not, but Clem was resilient and smart, she'd make friends and learn the language, and benefit from an indulgent grandfather, in a city and country situated a long way from the trouble spots in the world.  
“You'll have a wonderful time, and I know Max loved your father, despite anything he might have said to the contrary.”

In the end, the transition was performed with as much civility as possible. Henry was put through a process to prepare him to travel to Finland, he had a pet passport and underwent all the necessary health requirement with ease. Max flew to New York, then drove up to Emerson, staying with Jamie and Clem for a couple of weeks, to give Clem and him time to get to know each other a little. The legalities were formalized, Jamie not challenging the custody arrangements, Max not pushing for anything more, other than a simple agreement signed by both parties. Clem, once she got over her initial resistance, was full of questions about her father, questions Max was able to answer about Mitch's early life, his mother and his early education. Jamie shamelessly listened in on those conversations, eager to find out more about the usually reticent Mitch, fleshing out what she already knew with stories that brought him back to life, in a strange sort of way. Whatever Mitch had thought of his father, Max was a changed man with the loss of his son. Jamie could no more deny him a relationship with his granddaughter than she could cut out her heart. Despite Mitch's request, she chose the opposite, rewarded when she heard Clem and her grandfather laughing together and talking about Mitch and including her, Jamie as if she was really family.  
All too soon came the day of Clementine leaving. Henry would be following in a couple of weeks once he had completed the health requirements for traveling. Jamie drove them to the airport, Clementine, still a little teary after taking Max to her school and introducing him to her friends and teachers for the last time, was starting to look excited, rather than just apprehensive.  
They would be flying out of JFK, the flight taking eight hours roughly door-to-door. Jamie dropped them at the entrance, then went to park while they checked in. When she found them, Clem was clutching her carry-on bag against her chest, her eyes red and watery. On seeing Jamie, she ran forward and the two embraced, Jamie unable to hold back her tears either. Max gave them both space, understanding the unique bond the two had.  
“I-I don't want to leave,” Clem whispered. “I don't want to leave...you.”  
“I know,” Jamie whispered back. “But we'll be able to Skype, and talk on the phone, and Henry will bring you all the latest news, plus your friends will be keen to hear about your new home when you skype them, so we won't be far away, not really.”  
“I know,” Clem murmured, pulling back a little. “I wish Logan could have been here.”  
“He sends his best, and he'll catch up on skype when he's back in town, you know he will.”  
Clem nodded. “Will you be able to come over for Christmas?”  
“I'll work something out with Max, okay?”  
“Okay.”  
Max was approaching. “We need to make our way to the departure lounge.”  
Jamie nodded, smoothing her hands over Clem's hair one last time. “If you need anything, you know how to contact me.”  
Clem nodded, still tearful and choked up.  
“And I'll send Henry to you as soon as he's ready.”  
Clem nodded again. “I'll skype you,” she said, giving Jamie a final hug before letting go completely. Max held out his hand and the girl took it, looking woebegone, but resolute.  
Jamie leaned in to give Max a kiss on the cheek. “Take the very best care of our girl, Max.”  
He nodded and smiled. “I will. Thank you for everything, Jamie.”  
“Bye!” Clem waved her free hand, Max leading her to the gate to take them to the waiting lounge for first class passengers.  
Jamie waved back, not bothering to stem the tears flowing freely down her face. She kept watching until they were lost to sight, then she made her way to the observation deck and searched for the plane that would be taking Clem to a new country, a new life. She knew she was unnecessarily torturing herself waiting until the plane actually took off, but she felt it was important to be there. If it was Mitch, he would have waited, and so she did too. Eventually, the Lufthansa flight took off and she turned to leave as well, a significant part of her life over with the departure of Clementine. 

She returned to the house in Emerson alone. Henry was pleased to see her and made a fuss, Jamie glad to give the dog her full attention for a little while, taking him for a walk around the neighborhood while pondering what she would do now. Her first two books were selling well and her bank balance was looking extraordinary. Her third book was starting to take shape, but there was something else she wanted to start exploring, a thread of research that she'd touched on while putting together the facts and findings of the first story.  
It would mean a change of location, possibly even a change of lifestyle and personality, but that was all just cosmetic, at her core, Jamie Campbell was an avenging angel. She had done her best to avenge her mother, and the people of Fulsom, against the Reiden Global Corporation and their parent, GDJ International. But all her efforts had been in vain. Reiden had somehow managed to wriggle out of being found culpable and was now working in tandem with agencies across the world to fix the sterility issue. Nothing she tried to do against them now would be effective. She had to tackle the problem from another angle. General Davis had been a front man for Reiden, in trying to get the TX-14 gas released to kill off all the animals in the world, aided by Greg Mansdale, a Shepherd, disguised as his second in command. Davis had been betrayed by Mansdale in the end, the Shepherds shown to be the controlling influence behind the gas drop, in collusion with Robert Oz and Reiden Global. That Robert Oz had screwed both Reiden and the Shepherds was old news. Reiden was an easy target but untouchable, which left the members of the Shepherd organization. Where were they and how could she get at them?  
She already had a fair amount of information from her research for the books. Now she had to dig deeper and find out who were members of the reclusive Shepherds, and how could she bring them to account?  
To the get the information she needed, it was time to create a persona that would have access to people who had the answers she sought. Sweet, lovable, mumsy Jamie would have to be shed and replaced with sophisticated, wealthy, successful author, socialite Jamie. She would need to launch herself onto the New York scene and start cultivating those people most likely to have what she needed, as well as start learning the skills to become proficient in her new profession. Searching out and destroying Shepherds. 

Part Two – Ann Arbor, Michigan

Abe handed his longtime friend, Jackson Oz a beer before settling on the couch. Dariela was out picking up Isaac from a play date, so they had the place to themselves. Jackson looked drawn and not at all well.  
“What has been happening?” Abe asked.  
Jackson took a long pull on his beer before speaking. “I'm on the run.”  
“What did you do?”  
“Not me. Jamie's fucking books. Despite her changing our names, somehow, and I have no idea how, my real name has been identified, along with my father's, linking us both with the release of the TX-14 modified gas, and with it making us responsible for sterilizing the whole human race.”  
Abe stared at his friend in shock. “And that means what?”  
Jackson laughed. “That means that certain members of the legal profession are trying to pin a case against me, citing crimes against humanity.”  
Abe stared, appalled. “Good, God. Is Jamie aware of this?”  
Jackson dry washed his face. “I don't know....maybe. I was given the barest warning before my apartment was raided. I got out just in time, but all my work, my research into a possible solution has all been lost, taken by the agents who broke in.”  
“We need to get you somewhere safe, Rafiki. Do you know if you were followed here?”  
Jackson shook his head. “I don't know, but it won't take them long to come asking after me. I can't stay here more than a couple of days.”  
“Where will you go?”  
His friend looked up. “I was thinking of making for the west coast. There's been reports of some strange wolf causing problems north of the border, but also trickling down towards Portland.”  
“Wolf?”  
“Yeah. We all assume that the Razorback hybrids are still penned up on the island, but what if someone took them off?”  
“And let them loose in Canada?” Abe queried, a hint of sarcasm in his rich, dark voice.  
Jackson laughed. “Yeah, sounds a bit hokey, I know. Either way, I can't stay in New York, and they are bound to follow me up here, so I figured I'd change my name, dye my hair and find somewhere to hide out.”  
“In Canada,” Abe reiterated, this time flatly.  
“I said it was a plan, not that is was a good plan.”  
The two friends talked some more, then Abe sent Jackson off to wash up and rest, the spare room his for as long as he wanted to stay.  
Later, when Dariela was back home and he was rested, she was thrilled to see Jackson, not so thrilled when she learned why he was there. “Surely Jamie can do something? When did you last speak to her?”  
Jackson looked sheepish. “Not for awhile. I have her number somewhere...” he started to search his pockets. Dariela let out a huff of annoyance.  
“Don't bother, I'll call her myself.”  
Dariela let the phone ring a good long time, and then, when she was about to hang up, Jamie picked it up.  
“Hello?” she sounded rushed.  
“Jamie, it's Dariela.”  
“Oh. Hi, how are you?”  
“We're all good. Hey, have you heard about Jackson?”  
“No. What's happened, is he alright?”  
“Not really. Apparently, he's going to be indicted for crimes against humanity.”  
“What!?”  
“Yeah. Someone joined the dots in your books and came up with Jackson and Robert Oz as being responsible for sterilizing everyone, and now they want to lock Jackson up!”  
“Oh, my God, I didn't know. What can I do?”  
“Is there anything you can do? He's here with us at the moment, but talking about hiding out to escape the charges.”  
“Um...look, there might be something I can do. I have some...um...contacts, who can do all sorts of crazy stuff on the internet. Tell Jackson I'm so sorry, but I'll do what I can. Leave it with me, I'll call you back once it's done.”  
“Thanks, Jamie. I'll let him know. Look forward to hearing from you soon.”  
“Bye, Dariela. Talk to you soon.”  
Dariela ended the call and turned to the two men watching her. “She'll see what can be done. We'll know more when she calls back.”  
“It's a start. Until then, let us see what we have to eat.” Abe looked back at his wife, seeing her smile, then at his friend, who looked a little less worn and harried.

They were sitting in front of the fire, Isaac put to bed and the adults enjoying catching up on what had been happening since they last saw each other. Dariela had the mobile phone beside her and picked it up when it rang.  
“Jamie?”  
“The same. Hey, I've been able to speak to some people and arrange some stuff.”  
“That's good,” Dariela replied cautiously, looking up and meeting Jackson's worried gaze.  
“Good, but not perfect. For starters, I've arranged to have Jackson's image changed on the internet so that anyone looking for him, won't recognize him.”  
Dariela frowned. “That sounds...expensive.”  
“It was, but that's not important. Apart from any hard copies already in police hands, all else held on the internet or with reference to Jackson Oz will be showing a new image. The cyber worm has been designed to search out and change any image of Jackson it finds, even downloading onto any hard drive connected to the internet. It will be activated sometime over the next twenty-four hours, so if you have images on your computer, download them to an external hard drive otherwise they will be changed if Jackson is in any of them.”  
“Wow. That's some sophisticated software.”  
“It is. I'm so sorry this has happened, I never imagined...” Jamie paused. “Jackson will still need to change his name, there's no way around that right now, but at least he won't have to worry about being recognized. You'll be able to see if it's working by doing a search for Jackson in a day or so and see what images it produces.”  
“It will help. Thank you, Jamie. We'll talk longer in a few days, okay?”  
“Sure. Give my love to everyone, Dariela. I never meant for this to happen.”  
“We know you didn't. Take care.”  
She shut the phone off and turned to her husband and friend. “You won't have to worry about being recognized. Jamie has organized, somehow, to have a cyber worm created to search out and change any images of you on the internet, including online databases and any computer online.”  
“Wow.”  
“Yeah. You'll still have to change your name, and I think I know someone who can help with that. I'll contact them and get it underway. Have you thought of a new name?”  
Jackson looked nonplussed for a second or two, then his face cleared. “Dylan Green?”  
Dariela nodded. “Sounds nice and boring.” They all laughed. “I'll go make that call.”  
Abe looked after his wife, then turned back to his friend. “Look's like the women are sorting it all out for you. You'll be a new man in no time at all.”  
Jackson gave him a wry smile. “I was quite comfortable with the old man.”  
“If what Jamie is doing works, will you still head north?”  
“Most likely. Even with a new identity, I need work, and I don't have a stellar CV right now.”  
The two men sat sipping their drinks and contemplating alternatives. Dariela returned and they both looked up.  
“The new paperwork will be ready in two days. Have you cleaned out your bank accounts yet?”  
“Yeah. Did that before I left the city. Didn't want to give the game away by doing it on your front doorstep.”  
“Smart move,” Dariela told him. “So you paid for your bus ticket with cash?”  
“I've seen enough movies to know the score. Left my car behind as well. All I have is in that small knapsack I arrived with,” Jackson told her, smugly.  
“Got five hundred dollars?” Dariela asked. “Because that's what the new driver's license, passport, and birth certificate will cost.”  
“We will cover that,” Abe spoke up. “You'll need every penny to build a new life, it's the least we can do.”  
Jackson looked both abashed at their generosity, and supremely grateful. “Thank you, both. I hope none of this brings any trouble on your heads.”  
“It won't. As far as anyone will know, we haven't seen you since the wedding.”

Part Three – Kips Bay, New York

The move from Emerson to Kips Bay had been traumatic and cathartic. Jamie had left behind a lot of emotional baggage that had been stewing and festering in Emerson. With Logan gone, it had started to lift slightly, but it was only when she was cut loose by the departure of Clem, to her grandfathers, along with Henry, dear dog that he was, ten days later, that she was truly able to take stock of her life and her motivations and make some real changes.  
She had decided to become a Shepherd Hunter. Her books had provided her with the means, now her innate thirst for revenge, on Mitch's behalf, fueled and motivated her next move. She outright purchased a one bedroom apartment on the fourteenth floor, in a building on two hundred, east twenty-fourth street, in Kips Bay, Manhattan, as a base to work out of. She had looked at bigger apartments, but she had no plans to take up with anyone, so a one bedroom would be ample for her needs. Like her makeover of living situation, she now took herself in hand and transformed from the suburbanite to a sophisticate, using the simple application of an upmarket hairdresser. Her stylishly short bob highlighted the color of her hair and framed her face, drawing attention to her eyes. Her figure was already good, but she took up an intense course of exercise, employing a personal trainer to bring up her level of fitness to prepare her for the course of martial arts and self-defense classes she intended to enroll in next. She also found and attended classes in the care and use of firearms, from pistols to sniper rifles, along with the finer art of handling a knife competently in any situation. Money opened doors and gave her entry to an off-the-books education that would stand her in good stead, when she was ready to enter the twilight world of the information underground. Inbetween her physical and weapons training, she took lessons in computer hacking and perverse uses of computers, a necessary skill if you wanted to search deeper than google for anyone or anything. She got advice and invested in military-grade computing hardware, along with encryption software and the best corporate anti-virus protection available.  
Through all this intense upgrading, both personally and materially, she maintained a level of anonymity necessary to remain off the radar. For a short time, her fashionable short red hair was brunette, her eye color changed with contacts to brown, and she changed her name. Jamie Campbell became Nora Sullivan during the months of her intense re-education, always paid for herself with cash and could be relied upon to keep her mouth shut. As none of her tutors interacted with each other, none were bothered by her eclectic choices or recognized what she was making herself into. At the end of a year, Nora vanished and Jamie Campbell appeared on the New York literary scene, a bright addition to the gliterrati, a mystery woman, best selling author with another book poised to be published, it was rumored.  
Svelte and polished, Jamie started to appear in celebrity tabloids, never the center of attention, but never far from the brightest point in the room either. Her renewed red hair and elfin looks garnered attention, and her erudite conversation and witty banter gathered a circle of fair-weather friends that circulated among the same salons and parties. Jamie milked her minor celebrity status with aplomb, working her way up the social ladder, talking to the right people, gaining a reputation for being an entertaining, but discrete guest who was both decorative and knowledgeable, without being a camera hog.  
Back at her apartment, invitations to numerous events were pinned to a huge corkboard calendar, organised and arranged so that she could attend, if not for the whole event, at least for part of it, and be seen and noted by those that were interested, or that she wanted to notice her presence there. As she rose through the ranks, the invitations improved from mere social events, where anyone could go, to private occasions where the invitation list was very exclusive and often incorporated not just the media celebrities, but also a smattering of legal representatives alongside political figures, senators and governors, mayors and occasionally an ex-president or two.  
Jamie had early on employed a financial advisor and reputable accountant to manage her fortune, which, along with her own acumen, grew her a sizable portfolio that financed her social aspirations alongside the covert operations she had running. Instead of spending a small fortune on a limited edition, existing designer wardrobe, she employed a personal dressmaker, a young, vibrant unknown designer who was thrilled to be given free rein to design and create for such an original client. Robin's originals elevated Jamie to a new level of notice, her simple, classic selection of outfits were so unlike the current crop, from the usual well known designers, that she was often asked who dressed her, to which she replied she never gave out trade secrets, much to the frustration of those asking. By keeping her dressmaker to herself, it only made her more sought after and opened more doors.  
For every one of the many social contacts she cultivated, she had just as many not so visible contacts and informants searching out specific information about certain organizations and the people associated with them. Her accumulation of information soon drew the attention of a group with a similar goal – they called themselves the Wool Gatherers, a witty deflection for their true purpose as Shepherd Hunters. Denied their initial prey of Robert Oz, they had then tried to find his son, Jackson, but were stymied by the man disappearing nearly two years ago, while under investigation by the Justice Department for crimes against humanity. The indictment was laughable as it was clear, if anyone read The Rumor of Crows, that Jackson hadn't known his father was even alive until close to the end, so any trial would have been a theatrical showcase, nothing more, if they'd been able to track him down. As it was, he disappeared like the ghost his father now was, all traces of Jackson Oz leading to a dead end. He became a cold case, for all legal purposes, but not to the real hunters. When Jamie Campbell burst onto the glittering social scene, her association with Jackson Oz immediately put her on the hunter's radar, but try as they might she was unimpeachable, so they tried a different tact by recruiting her to their cause. Jamie made it appear she was reluctant at the start, but soon caved and carefully doctored the information she shared with them while milking their knowledge base for every scrap of anything they had. With this combined knowledge, one by one, the members of the elusive, worldwide organization, called The Shepherds, were identified, verified and located. When Jamie had one pinpointed, the information found its way to the Wool Gatherers, who in turn informed the legal fraternity and that Shepherd was quickly brought to justice. None of them ever informed on other members of the group, but still, they started to be found and unmasked, details of their connections or participation in the Shepherd organization laid out in undeniable clarity, with most of them ending up serving long sentences for their part in sterilizing humanity.  
The Wool Gatherer's started to gain almost mythic status with their ability to hunt down former Shepherd members, plus recently active participants, using present information that pinned the culprits with unerring accuracy, resulting in their downfall. Many were influential in the law, in industry and were leaders of fashion and culture. All were brought before a grand jury and made to answer for their past association with the Shepherds. Before long, the organization was shredded and decimated, but still, the work to winkle out the last remaining members went on. 

Part Four – Singapore. 

Duncan wiped the sweat off his face for the umpteenth time before replacing his peaked cap, sweeping his overlong hair back off his forehead before jamming the hat on. He was returning to base from checking on the beacon being built atop an apartment block nearby. In a basement, not far in the opposite direction, the seeded hybrids hung on thick, fleshy threads attached to the ceiling, the local humidity aiding in keeping the embryos moist in their dark nest. Before too long, the modified algae would grow and create an artificial environment perfect for keeping the hybrids in a well-hydrated state, the level of humidity just right, while not needing any power or artificial air conditioning to keep it so. The beacon tower was taking shape, the construction team excited to be building what they thought was a communication tower, bringing improved mobile and digital access to the block and surrounding neighborhood.  
Duncan smiled to himself at how easily duped the local businesses could be, with the promise of cash payment and something no one else had yet. The beacon, once fully assembled would improve nothing, its only function being to rouse the sleeping embryos to full maturity and draw any other hybrids within a hundred miles to that location.  
He reached a nondescript apartment building and headed down a narrow alleyway off to the side. Reaching the basement access, he pressed his hand to the electronic lock and walked through the doorway when it opened. Lights flickered on, alerted to his presence with heat sensors. Making his way down the corridor he pulled off his hat and raked his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. Singapore, despite being a beautiful city and spit-polish clean, had a horrible climate that did nothing for his temper. Pushing open a swing door he entered the main control room.  
“Hey,” he growled, acknowledging the woman seated at one of the consoles. “Everything is on track and the nest is secure.”  
“Good. When this tower is finished, we will have complete coverage for this part of the map.”  
Duncan pulled over a chair on wheels and sat down. “Where to next? Somewhere cool, I hope.”  
Abigail turned to look at him. His hair was slick and his thin shirt plastered to his torso with sweat.  
“Not enjoying the climate?”  
“Fucking humidity is a complete shit. Give me snow any day.”  
Abigail laughed and got up. She was dressed in a flowy, lightweight top over three-quarter jeans. It was a change from her usual black garb and a lot cooler. “You'll be pleased to know you're on your way back to New York. Something's come up and we need to get on top of it.”  
“What?”  
“There's a person I want to make disappear. She's causing waves and eliminating the help. She's what you'd call a Shepherd Hunter. The organization can't afford to take another hit, and we need to take her out of the equation.”  
“Who is this she?”  
Abigail brought an image up on the screen and twisted, so she could read his reaction. Duncan looked at the photo on the screen, then at Abigail.  
“Details?”  
“Her name is Jamie Campbell. Years ago she was part of the team that stopped the animals mutating. Before that, she was a journalist. Now she is a best selling author and socialite.”  
Duncan snorted. “How the fuck is she a threat? She looks like a breeze would knock her over.”  
Abigail smiled thinly. “Be that as it may, she is also an associate of the Wool Gatherers.”  
This time Duncan gave a bark of harsh laughter, something so unusual that even Abigail blinked twice.  
“You have got to be shitting me...I suppose that's their idea of a joke?”  
Abigail sent him a quelling look. “Funny or not, they have provided enough evidence to have two-thirds of the Shepherd organization put behind bars. Only those seeded in the upper echelon of power have escaped their notice.”  
“How does this Campbell woman figure in all this?”  
Abigail smiled, genuinely this time, in response to his dismissive sneer. “It is suspected that a lot of the information that is squirreled out, comes from her and her activities. It can't be proved, she's too clever for that, but she has been absent from the social scene at times that coincide with the theft of information or break in's at bases and Shepherd homes. Whatever the reasoning behind it, those at the top want her removed from causing more mischief. If I was to speculate, she is probably getting too close to honing in on one of the Shepherd leaders, possibly the Falcon, or someone similar in rank.”  
“I don't care what she's done, if it gets me out of this fucking jungle oven, I'll do it.”  
“I'll travel to our next destination while you take care of that for me. You'll need to get her somewhere her body won't be found for years.”  
“You want me to kill her?”  
“I thought I made that clear. Remove her from the scene, close down her operation, kill her and hide the body. Clear enough for you?”  
“Fine. I'll need cash if I'm to get close enough to snatch her.”  
“Oh, you won't have to do that. Just show her your face and she'll run into your arms.”  
“She know's me?”  
“No. Not you, but she'll think she does. You are the doppelganger of a man she lost many years ago. Just a glimpse of you will bring her within easy reach.”  
“Can I have some fun with her?”  
Abigail blinked again, taken aback by his request. In the years since Charles Duncan had come into being, he had never, not once, asked to make use of a woman, not even when it was offered. As far as she was aware, Duncan hadn't used a brothel or a street prostitute for even a blow job. Now one look at Jamie Campbell and he wanted to have fun?  
Duncan apparently could sense her indecision. “Is there a problem with that?”  
Abigail shook her head. “No problem at all. You can do what you like with her, once she is safely taken out of the picture. Just remember, we haven't finished our own tasks yet.”  
“We're up to date, and ahead of schedule,” Duncan retorted. “I think I've earned a little time off, don't you?”  
Once again he took Abigail aback for a second. “Fine. Take as much time as you need, as long as whatever is left after your...fun, is buried deep and never found.”  
Duncan lifted his lips and bared his teeth in a feral grin, a sight that sent chills down Abigail's spine.

Part Five – New York – Jamie.

Jamie told the driver to wait, then stepped out, the heat from the tarmac engulfing her after the cool of the airconditioned town car interior. Her sunglasses cut the glare down to a manageable level as she walked across the short distance to the hanger and inside, the sudden shade most welcome. Taking off her sunglasses, she appraised the airliner parked in the bay. She smiled, her mind flooded with memories of their time spent crisscrossing the world in search of a cure. After the animals had been cured, the plane had been returned to Allison Shaw, who, it was supposed, either mothballed it or sold it on. When, in a fit of nostalgia, Jamie had tracked it down, she found it had indeed been sold but was now up for sale again. As luck would have it, it was being stored in a hanger on the field at JFK, so here she was, a prospective buyer, possibly the only one, come to inspect it. The previous owner had repainted the aircraft with his band's iconic record album artwork and, given they were a heavy metal band, the artwork was distinctive but ugly. It didn't bode well for the interior. The sales rep greeted her and drew her towards the metal mobile staircase waiting for her to ascend. Jamie looked down at her shoes, a delicate pair of Jimmy Choo's and reached down to take them off.  
“These cost almost as much as the plane,” she joked with the salesman. “But these fit better.”  
The man smiled politely but started to wonder if he'd wasted his time. Jamie now stood barefoot, holding her shoes by one finger. An airman appeared at her elbow and offered her a pair of airline slippers used for passengers in first class.  
“Why, those are darling!” She put a hand on the man's shoulder as he gallantly knelt down to fit them on her feet. Given how short her tight skirt was, he got an eyeful of a shapely leg for his trouble. “Thank you so much, can we go up now?”  
The salesman now wished he'd thought of the slippers, but it was too late, so he simply indicated for her to proceed him, then spent the climb leering at her bottom as she went up the steps. At the top she swung around, nearly clocking him in the face with her sandals.  
“Wow, it's so high up.” She swung back around, smirking at knocking the leer off his face so neatly. Inside she stood back to let the salesman go ahead, the man leading her to the main lounge and wet-bar kitchenette. While he rattled on about the amenities, Jamie looked around at the familiar interior. Apart from some appalling artwork and uncomfortable looking furniture, little had changed, although the bar looked like it had had some work, the number of drink bottles quadrupled from the time she'd last seen it. And was that a beer pump?  
Without comment she suffered through the rest of the tour, hearing how the main area had been gutted and replaced with an amusement arcade that included a pool table, mini bowling alley, pinball machines and several arcade computer games. It had also been redecorated again in the band's colors plus disco lights and smoke machines. It looked truly hideous. Likewise, the bedroom suites each had different themes, all of them tacky and tasteless, but easily painted over.  
The only area that remained original was the loading bay, one peek inside and she was right back in the past, watching as she shot Logan and he fell out of the plane, of jumping in the truck to hare off on another adventure, all of them so much younger and naive. She closed her eyes and could almost hear the voices of her friends, dead and alive, as they prepared for whatever they were going in search of.  
The salesman looked at his buyer with concern. Where before she had been frivolous and light-hearted, here, in the barren confines of the loading bay, she appeared somber and distraught.  
“Are you alright?”  
Jamie snapped back to the present and smiled brightly. “Oh, I'm fine, just remembering how I lost the last plane I owned. Now, what was it you were saying about the flight controls?”

In the end, there really was no other outcome other than buying it. Avionics had progressed to the point of being able to make a plane completely automatic, able to be piloted from a control pad. It could even be done remotely, in as much as going through a preflight check, warming the engines up and getting it ready to roll. To fly it, you only needed a rudimentary understanding, the software would do the rest. You just had to make sure it had regular check-ups and keep the gas tank full.  
She had it moved to a distant hanger that belonged to one of her society friends, who was currently holidaying in the Maldives and had taken her jet with her, leaving the hanger free along with her ground staff. Jamie made full use of them, as well as employing a highly recommended outfitters to give the plane a facelift and remove all trace of the previous owners. She was tempted to rename the plane with the title of her third book, as the proceeds from that had largely financed the project, but she refrained from doing so, preferring to keep the plane largely anonymous. Certainly, its new outer skin color was nothing remarkable, a somber, battleship grey with a hint of metallic sheen in the mix, so in some lights, it looked like it was covered in a thin layer of oil black. The interior was returned to its former state. It was sentimental and sappy of her to do so, but she insisted that the lab in the belly of the plane be restored to how it was, with a few extras added to her personal specification. When the interior was complete, she sold her Kips Bay apartment and moved in, bringing all her computer equipment with her and having that set up in a computer suite next to the lab. The sale of the apartment helped offset the cost of the refit, allowing her to splash out on a whole host of new doohickies and cutting-edge technology that brought the previously dated plane up to near military spec.  
Memories she'd kept locked away came flooding back as she walked through the interior, running her fingers tips over the metal gurney, stroking her nails over the glass cabinet fronts. She felt like she'd come home. In the loading bay sat a couple of vehicles, one was a glossy, white mustang she'd treated herself too, the other was a purely utilitarian, four-wheel drive truck containing every survival gadget she could cram into it. Tucked to the side was a motorcycle, big and black, a wicked indulgence that she rode in the dead of night, black leather on black metal when the mood took her and she needed to blow the cobwebs away.  
In the lab were several glass specimen tanks, one holding a black scorpion she called Steve, because it was funny. Another held a bird-eating tarantula, while the one next to that held an overfed, contented blue-tongued lizard called Colin. Several others held a variety of snakes, some poisonous others constrictors. The one constant that had survived over the years, despite the changing fortunes of the plane, was the immortal jellyfish they had taken off the venom dealer in Lisbon. It was still floating happily in its unusually shaped, blue light aquarium. She always remembered Mitch dropping the bone into the tank to clean it and the little guy feeding up large on the bounty. With the passage of time, memories of Mitch had grown softer but never dulled. She kept them alive, kept him alive, by running the recordings he made to supplement his notes, helping her remember his voice. She admitted to herself that her holding on so fiercely was probably not particularly healthy, mentally speaking, but whenever she doubted her sanity or the morality of what she was doing, she went to the small wooden drawer and looked at the cracked glasses sitting in their case. His blood had been cleaned off long ago, but that was all. In a fit of melancholy, she'd got an optician to make a replacement pair to his last prescription. Why, she couldn't exactly explain, there was no way he would be needing them. She just wanted an unbroken pair, as if he'd walk in and ask for his glasses, slipping them on and looking up at her. It was a popular fantasy of hers. Healthy? Probably not, but she was past caring. 

Her success rate with finding and incarcerating Shepherds had whittled the wanted list down to a handful still on the loose. One was the Falcon, a person high enough up the food chain to be able to cover their tracks, making them invisible and untraceable. Another was a man called Mr. Duncan, a virtual ghost who was whispered to be an engineer, others suggested he was a chemist, but whoever he was, all they had was a name, nothing else. Also, still free but not for much longer, was Greg Mansdale, the former traitorous aide to General Davis, and confirmed, card-carrying member of the Shepherd organization. Despite having his name and image to work with, he'd proved elusive, managing to avoid several traps laid for him as well as the cyber facial recognition net spread around the world. Jamie had a lead she was following and hoped to bag Mansdale for herself. If she caught him, she would wring the information out of his hide, about where to find those that remained on the most wanted list, then pass it along to the Wool Gatherers to execute. Because of Mansdale's betrayal, Mitch had died, her quest for revenge all hinged on his capture.

It was all she lived for. 

Part Six – New York – Duncan.

He stared out the window and watched the sun set behind the skyscrapers. It felt odd to be out on his own. For so long he'd been living and working out of Shepherd bases, most were uniformly made of concrete and unadorned with anything remotely stimulating, not even windows. In the early days, he'd been totally involved with the challenges that Abigail routinely threw his way. Where he lived or slept was of little concern, one base the same as any other, the only difference being the weather outside. The length of stay at each base depended on what they were there to do, or how safe it was from detection. When one base was compromised, or a member of the team captured, they moved to the next, usually at night under the cover of darkness. Only rarely did they have the luxury of traveling in daylight, his curiosity rarely piqued by anything other than the project on the workbench in front of him.  
Now he was on his own assignment, no Mansdale, no Abigail, no urgent challenge needing his undivided attention. The only puzzle he had to solve was to find a woman called Jamie Campbell and take her out of circulation. There was no time frame, no completion date, just a job to do. He wasn't an assassin for hire, hell he was barely competent with a gun, but he was smart, certainly smarter than some ditzy socialite with orange hair and a lousy choice in book titles. He turned back from the window and looked at the bed where his few belongings were currently dumped. Among them were the books the woman had written, the first two a thinly disguised retelling of how they cured the animals, the third a fictional account of a woman left at the altar, who goes on the honeymoon anyway and falls in love with a safari guide, the pair having several adventures before riding off into the sunset on an elephant, or so he deduced from the back cover blurb. Not that he expected to have time to read, but he was curious about the writer, rather than the stories themselves. He had felt a strange vibe off Abigail when the woman's name was mentioned, and again when her image was shown on the computer screen, as if she expected him, Duncan, to react in some way, maybe even recognize her or say something. All he'd felt was a mild surprise that Abigail wanted to waste his talents on such a meaningless task that the lowest grunt in the organization could have carried out. For whatever reason, the job had been handed to him, and he was just a little bit curious. Hence the books. And the rented room.  
If the woman moved in social circles, then he'd have to learn her routines, at least find out where she lived and then decide how he was going to snatch her away, from an event? Her apartment? A dark alley? And what would he do when he had her? He'd been baiting Abigail when he said he wanted to have fun with the target, not really meaning it, but when Abigail reacted with an emotion he would say almost bordered on jealousy, his interest was caught. Abigail just wanted him to kill the woman and be done with it, but that meant he'd never learn her importance to Abigail and the Shepherds. How did this slip of a woman have the power to scare one of the brightest minds on the planet? And how did he factor into this menage a tois? Was this a test of his loyalty? A test of his commitment to the Shepherd cause? It seemed like a test of something, to him at least.  
He picked through his well-worn wardrobe and decided he needed something smarter if he was going to mix in a social environment. His memories of people only started from the day he awoke and saw Abigail looking down at him. Prior to that, there was nothing to draw on, no earlier memories of social interactions to give him a clue how to proceed.  
He sat on the side of the bed and reached into his pocket for the scrap of paper Abigail had given him. It had on one side the woman's last known address, on the other a phone number if he needed to contact Abigail at any time. Night time was when socialites went out, so now was as good a time as any to go and suss out her building.

In his black coat, black jeans, boots, and hoodie he blended in with the shadows easily. He was across the road from the entrance to the apartment block. The narrow road was busy with cabs and cars, but they didn't obscure his view of the front security door. Several people had already gone in and out of the red brick building and he was thinking he'd have to use one to get in and go up to her apartment, but once he went inside he was more exposed. He'd prefer to know she was out before he broke in and searched through her stuff. He stayed at his post for several hours, the residents of the building funneling in and out, but none of them had red hair or matched his mental image of the woman he was looking for. The road was a little quieter, but there was still plenty of pedestrians so he jogged across the road further along, then strolled along with the rest until he got close to the building. The glass foyer doors showed a doorman on duty, someone he'd want to avoid. He walked on past, noting the underground garage, a car exiting as he passed by. Pausing he looked back, without knowing if she was home or not, there was no way he was going to knock on the apartment doors looking for her. He walked back and went through the glass swing doors to the foyer. The doorman had retreated to his desk and looked up when Duncan entered.  
“Can I help you, sir?”  
“I was told the celebrity, best selling author, Miss Jamie Campbell lived in this building. Do you know if she is home?”  
“I'm sorry, sir, but Miss Campbell is no longer a resident in these apartments.”  
“No shit!” That stumped him. “You don't know where she moved to?”  
The doorman smiled thinly. “I'm not sure I'm at liberty to pass on that sort of personal information.”  
Duncan smiled. Some things were the same the world over. He pulled out his wallet and folded a fifty over before passing it to the man. “Are you sure about that?”  
The doorman pocketed the fifty without batting an eye. “She brought a plane, from what I've heard and lives on it. Keeps it in a hanger at JFK.”  
Duncan merely nodded. “Thank you for your time.” He hurried out of the building, his mind whirling with the new information and the implications. Just as well he didn't bother to get himself some fancy new clothes. The woman had a plane? Abigail hadn't known about that so it must be a very recent acquisition, and she was living on it? Must be a damn big plane. Now he knew where she was, he just had to figure out how to get past security at the airport and search for the hanger.


	4. Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning: some violence, manipulation and mind games.

Part One – JFK – Jamie

Life aboard the plane was still a novelty for her. The space she had to play with, the familiarity and solidity of it was comforting, and she had nobody to please but herself. Many of societies darlings were off the party circuit, either decamped to the Hampton's for the summer or gone overseas to work on their tan and enjoy the European social whirl for a few months. Before she'd sold up her apartment, she informed a few people of her plans to do a worldwide tour, incorporating some promotional stops for book signings and the like. She gave no specific destination, but it was clear to anyone she told that she would be absent from the New York social scene for some months. Her various staff was given similar notice that they had the summer off, and she'd call them when she was back in town. Now she just had to figure out where she actually wanted to go.   
She spent a bit of her time just reading up about her plane and how it operated. It was like a lot of modern equipment. You could easily pick up the rudimentary stuff, like how to switch it on, how to start it up, like learning to use a microwave, but to get into the nitty-gritty and find out what you could really do with it, you had to read the instruction manual. The one for the plane was similar in size to binding together all the Encyclopedia Britannica in one volume. It was huge. But, as she was fond of telling herself, she had time. Bit by painful bit she read the volume from cover to cover, finding out all sorts of nifty things along the way, as well as getting to know just what her new toy was capable of, and how to get the most out of it. She could even, at a pinch, do what needed to be done, given the right ground equipment, to service the plane. It was all in the book, and if you had access to a well-equipped hanger, you could do it all, from refueling to emptying the septic tank, to greasing the bearings on the landing gear. She even knew what the pressure of the dry nitrogen should be in the tires.  
When that herculean task was accomplished she turned to the serious topic of her first flight, and where she wanted to go. To that purpose she had a map of the world spread out on the dining table in the lounge. She looked up from perusing the map and stared around the room. There was seating for half a dozen people or more around the table and she almost expected to see one of her old teammates appear in the doorway and ask what she was doing. Instead, she shook her head and looked back down at the map. Maybe a holiday on some tropical island paradise would help her relax. 

The airport grounds were dark, the many lights creating pools of brightness, but making the shadows even darker, allowing him to slip between the buildings and avoid the patrols of guards, and sweep of the cameras. He expected them to be infrared, or even heat sensitive, so he was careful to move only when he was sure he was off their screen. One by one he checked each hanger, large or small. He had no idea which one would contain the plane Jamie Campbell was living in, but he reckoned he know when he saw it. Most of the hangers, at this time of night, were dark and empty, making his task a little easier. The ones he was interested in were still showing lights and activity.   
Most were workshops with a night crew doing regular maintenance, on whichever airplane was due for a service. Those he avoided. It was the hangers that were closed and still showed lights that drew him in for a closer look. Time was pressing, so he jogged to the next hanger, the place was huge, and almost in darkness, but when he found a window, he could see that while the lights in the hanger were off, the interior of the fuselage was lit up, indicating someone was likely aboard. He checked for any interior alarms but found none, making it relatively easy to break into the hanger itself. Being on the edge of the field, among the privately owned buildings, it was beyond the range of the cameras and only patrolled by a mobile team of guards, every hour. Stealthily he jimmied the catch and eased the window open. In the deep shadows of the hanger, he easily made his way to the undercarriage of the aircraft, but here he had to pause. Unless he was prepared to push over the wheeled steps to get him up to the cockpit or one of the side doors, which, he was pretty sure, whoever was inside would hear unless they had headphones on, and even then they'd probably hear it, he had to find another way. He checked all over the belly of the craft. There were numerous hatches, both small and large, to allow access into the plane, some purely for putting in or taking out via a hose. Others were along the line of access to the belly of the plane for maintenance, he assumed, or maybe loading supplies on board, it was certainly big enough to have an internal lift to send things up to the flight deck. And then there was the undercarriage.   
Everyone had heard stories about people hitching a ride via the wheels, but those who chose that route usually died, very few surviving and none finding a way into the body of the plane itself. So that way was passed over in favor of others. It was probable that the occupant, hopefully the woman he was seeking, came and went via the loading ramp at the back, a modification not usual in an Airbus-380. In which case he had to get her to come out of the plane, to allow him to sneak on board and find somewhere to hide. He had a hunch that his quarry was planning to take a trip, and she would know how to fly the plane, a skill he was sure he didn't have. Either way, his first obstacle was to get the ramp down and the occupant out to investigate something. He eyed up the various hatches above his head. Most had an exterior access handle to allow the ground crew to open them up. He imagined that most of them would be alarmed, as a plane couldn't take off if anything was left unlocked or unsecured. It just needed for him to open one of the hatches, and wait for the woman, Jamie to come out and take a look. Now was as good a time as any, so he reached for a hatch lever and pulled. 

Jamie closed down her station and yawned. She was dressed in her pj's and only needed to brush her teeth to be ready for bed. She'd decided to check her messages before shutting everything down and calling it a night. Nothing new was posted on any of the boards, forums or message sites she subscribed to, so she ended her session. She switched off the lights for the downstairs then went up the staircase to the upper level, switching off lights as she went. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she padded into her bedroom and sat down on the side of the bed, picking up the tablet that displayed the status of the plane and its systems. A blinking light drew her attention and she frowned down at the display. Bringing up the information related to the highlighted cursor she stared at the error message. Apparently, a hatch leading into the avionics in the belly of the plane was not locked down and the plane wouldn't take off without it being closed and locked. How it had become loosened was a mystery in itself, but she wasn't going to worry about it now. It could be left until the morning.

Seeing the lights go out above him, he cursed, realizing he'd have to find somewhere to bed down and wait for the morning. He didn't doubt the ruse would work, and he couldn't fault the woman for waiting until daylight to inspect the problem, but still, he would have preferred somewhere more comfortable to wait out the night. Using a tiny torch, he found where the ground staff had their meal breaks, a tiny kitchen and several old airline seats set up against a wall. Using his backpack as a pillow, he stretched out across the seats and crossed his arms over his chest. He was already wearing a black beany and the air inside the hanger wasn't exactly cold, so he closed his eyes and settled himself to sleep. 

Jamie was up early, sitting in the upstairs lounge eating her breakfast and catching up on the news. Today she would be filing a flight plan at long last for a destination that would double as a test flight, as well as her first flight, in the newly upgraded plane. With breakfast cleared away, she put in the call to the tower, booking her place for later in the day. The plane was already prepped for flight, she just needed to have one of the boys come and tow the aircraft out of the hanger onto the apron before she could taxi onto the runway and take off. The tablet reminded her of the fault light for the unlocked hatch and she toggled the control for the rear vehicle ramp.

The whirl of the ramp being lowered jolted him out of his doze. He'd been awake since early, but not knowing the usual morning routine of his target, he'd moved closer to the plane and now was poised, hidden out of sight, to enter the plane as soon as Jamie Campbell left it. His patience had now been rewarded with the ramp lowering and within minutes the appearance of the woman he had been told to dispose of. She looked relaxed and confident, wearing casual clothes, a loose top, jeans, and boots, walking easily down the ramp and around the far side to inspect the hatch that he had loosened last night. As soon as she stepped off the ramp and out of sight he started to move, running up the ramp as lightly as possible, between the vehicles and up the steps to the first access hatch into the plane. Once through that, he did a quick reconnoiter then moved forward, his eyes checking out everything, darting back and forth, taking in as much as he could while aware that the unlocked hatch wouldn't take the woman long to put right and allow her to return. After passing through the well-equipped laboratory he quickly ran up the stair to the upper storey, through the lounge, and along a corridor with bedroom suites on either side. He did a quick check of which room was being used by his target, and once that was established it was just a matter of ducking into one of the unused room to complete his mission. He was onboard and undetected.

Jamie puzzled over the hatch, surprised that it had been overlooked by the ground crew. It had been a simple fix to open the hatch and re-secure it. She's taken the tablet with her to make sure the error message cleared when she relocked it. Sure enough, the flashing icon was gone and the plane was once more ready to go. Deciding to stretch her legs, she walked to the hanger doors and pressed the control to open the enormous bay sliders. Bright sunlight poured in and she basked in the warmth for a few moments, the roar of jets taking off from the busy airport reminding her that she'd be joining them in a couple of hours. A security car cruised by and stopped, checking in with her as they did. She informed them she would be leaving and the hanger would be empty until its owner returned. After that she wandered back inside and back into the plane up the ramp, closing it behind her, completely unaware she had a stowaway. 

He didn't stir when the plane was being towed out, it went so smoothly. Only when the engines fired up to taxi out to the runway did he crack an eyelid, having slept the last couple of hours away on top of the covers of the bed, still dressed as he was last night, but now sporting some serious whiskers. Getting up he used the bathroom but didn't flush. Careful to only trickle the water to have a drink, doing everything to keep the woman aboard from discovering him, before the plane was in the air. He was pleased that he hadn't missed her because chasing her around the world would have been a massive pain in the arse. This way, it was only him and her and nobody else involved, on an automated plane flying somewhere, he didn't care about the destination. Laying down again on the bed, he rummaged in his rumpled bag and pulled out a muesli bar, not exactly a meal, but enough to keep him going until he chose the time to appear. Once he had the situation under control, he'd fix himself something more substantial from the onboard kitchen. First things first, he had to capture the woman and subdue her. 

Jamie sat in a takeoff chair, the seatbelt undone, but her eyes fixed on the tablet. The take-off had gone flawlessly, the tower giving her clearance and the plane responding copy-book perfect. Now they were in the air and she was still frowning down at the tablet. There was nothing wrong, but one of the readings seemed to be off. She was as familiar as a person could be with the aircraft, and seeing the discrepancy was more of a conundrum than a serious concern. Giving up on trying to figure it out, she dropped the tablet on the seat beside her and got up to go downstairs to her workstation and check up on some message boards. The flight would take several hours, so she thought to do some work and relax, letting the plane do what it did best. 

Duncan slid the door open, tuning out the background hum of the plane's engines to listen for any indication of where his quarry was. He'd discarded his heavy coat and simply wore jeans, sneakers and a shirt under a thin sweater. He had a pistol in one hand but held that down by his thigh as he padded silently down the corridor to the back staircase. At the bottom, he was faced with two choices of hallways to investigate. He heard a sound and carefully looked around one corner, seeing a number of computer screens flickering as the woman jumped between web pages, her attention all on them and not on what was going on behind her. Aware that she might see his reflection in the monitors, he hugged the wall and slowly approached noiselessly, Jamie completely unaware of his approach. 

The press of cold metal on her neck made her jump in her seat.   
“Easy. No sudden moves and you might just survive the next few minutes.”  
She froze, not only because of the gun pressed against her skin but because the voice was one she never expected to hear again. Shaken, she lifted her hands off the keyboard, looking at the monitor in the hopes of seeing a reflection to confirm her confused thoughts. Unfortunately, the monitor was no help.   
“Who...” she had to swallow. “Who are you?”  
“Not important. What is important, is that you do as your told so I don't have to do something you'll regret.”  
The deep growl was not his usual pattern of speech, and his words suggested he didn't know who she was, but the more she heard the more she was becoming convinced something miraculous had taken place, something that explained why they never found a body.   
“What do you want?”  
“For you to put your hands on your head and get up slowly.”  
She closed her eyes, squeezing them tight before opening them again. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her lips parted as she tried to breathe normally. Rising up out of her chair she placed her hands on her head and turned to face the holder of the gun.   
Her eyes met his and she thought she'd pass out from sheer relief. He was there, alive...he was alive.

Duncan stared at the woman he was supposed to dispose of, her eyes wide when they met his, her expression a mixture of surprise, wonder, disbelief then profound relief, her hands shaking where they rested on top of her head. He raised the gun to point it directly at her face.  
“Whatever it is you are thinking, you are wrong. I will shoot you if you try to resist.”  
She continued to stare at him, her normally pale skin looking translucent, shock washing all color from her face, her lips parted and trembling. She looked scared to death and about to faint.  
“Lower your hands and put your wrist together.”  
She obeyed slowly, lowering her hands and holding them out. He passed the loop of the zip tie over her wrists and pulled it tight, a wince of pain flashing across her face.  
“Step forward.”  
She did so, her eyes still fixed on his face, roving over his overlong hair and scruffy beard, none of which detracted from the wonderful fact that he was alive and standing in front of her.   
His hand wrapped around her upper arm and he pulled her forward, bringing her close to his body. She inhaled and her lungs were filled with his scent, warm and earthy, undiluted by cologne or shampoo, just Mitch.   
He roughly hauled her into the heart of the plane, into the center of the lab, then past the stand of animal cases, some with occupants, others with plants, through to the downstairs lounge past the holding cage, where he forced her down into one of the armchairs. He held out the pistol again, moving towards the bar.  
“Don't move. I don't want to have to disable you.”  
Jamie shook her head to clear the fog of awareness that clouded her thoughts. She tested the ties on her wrists but they were tight, almost uncomfortably so. She watched him pick a banana off the fruit bowl and rip it open with his teeth, taking a bite hungrily. With that consumed, he approached where she sat.  
“Kick off your boots.”  
She complied, but her mind was racing, now that the initial shock, of seeing him alive and well, was wearing off. Lifting her feet, she drew them back, tensing her muscles in readiness to kick out, but he anticipated her.  
“Sit back in the chair and stretch your legs out.”  
He must have seen her intentions in her eyes, Jamie dropping her gaze and straightening out her legs, ankles together. With a flick, the loop of the plastic tie was over her feet and pulled tight.   
Still wary, he stepped back and lowered the gun.   
“You looked surprised to see me, not just because I was aboard the plane, but because you recognized me.”  
She looked up at him. “I do know you. You're Mitch Morgan, deceased.”  
He sat down in a chair opposite her, the gun still in his hand, but no longer pointing at her. “And you think I'm this Mitch who died? Obviously, I'm not...I'm alive.”  
Jamie gave him a considering look. “Who do you think you are?”  
“Hardly relevant, but I'll indulge you. My name is Charles Duncan.”  
She nodded, a piece of the puzzle falling in to place. “Of course. The ghost.” She gave a chuff of laughter. “I've been looking for you for some time.”  
Now it was his turn to look surprised. “You were looking for me? Why?”  
“Your name cropped up in my investigation into the Shepherd organization. I thought you were a ghost, a cover for someone else. I didn't realize you were a real ghost, what a joke.”  
“Aren't you curious as to why I'm here?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.  
“Somewhat. It was you that messed with the hatch.”  
He nodded. She continued.   
“That's when you stowed away?”   
He nodded again. “It was that or hide in the wheel well.” He screwed up his face. “And I didn't think that was a great plan.”  
Jamie felt a jolt, seeing that so familiar expression. If only his eyes weren't so devoid of the twinkle of wry humor that Mitch habitually held, she would have thought Mitch was playing an elaborate joke on her, but there was no avoiding the fact his eyes were not his. When he looked at her, he didn't know her or remember anything about their time together. On the outside, he was Mitch Morgan, but on the inside, he was a stranger. A dangerous stranger because she couldn't rely on her memories to tell her what he was capable of doing. This man she'd been searching for, was associated with the Shepherds and all the evil they were responsible for, a member of an organization that had doomed the human race. The very antithesis of what Mitch Morgan had believed in and gave his life for.   
What had happened to him in the years since, had produced the man sitting in front of her – Charles Duncan.   
“So, why are you here? To steal the plane?” she asked.   
“It's a nice toy, but not the reason I'm here.” He smiled darkly. “I was sent here to dispose of you.”  
It was Jamie's turn to raise her eyebrows. “You're an assassin now?”  
He shrugged. “In my free time. But I'm not in a hurry.” He looked around the interior before dropping his gaze to meet hers. “Sweet ride you have here. Fully automatic?”  
“Did you see a pilot get onboard?” she retorted. He smiled thinly.  
“Where are we headed?” he asked. Jamie leaned back in her chair and put her head back, pulling her hands up to rest just below her bust, fingers laced.   
“I was going on holiday. It's been a rough few years since you died. Plus the plane needed a test flight, so I combined them both. We're scheduled to touch down in Jamaica in less than two hours, so whatever you think you're going to do....” she trailed off.  
“Jamaica...nice beaches, so I've been told. Shame you won't get to spend any time there.”  
She raised her head and glared at him. “I filed a flight plan. If I don't go where I said I would, there'll be questions...”  
He shrugged. “Don't give a fuck. I prefer to conduct my business somewhere less populated.” He got up and went to the bar, finding the tablet left laying on the marble benchtop. “Tell me how I change the destination.”  
Jamie looked at him stonily. “I won't help you.”  
He sat down opposite her again, his concentration on the tablet. Absently, he placed the gun on the side table next to him. He tapped on the screen, bringing several things up, but he couldn't see where to change the flight destination. He looked up at his captive, his eyes flinty.   
“I can just as easily sabotage this plane and fly us into the ground, if you don't co-operate. Now, how do I change the destination?”  
Jamie just shook her head, her lips pressed together. Duncan sighed and picked up the gun.   
“We can do this the easy way, or the painful way, your choice.” He pointed the gun at her and she sat up, still holding her hand in front of her body.   
Jamie tilted her head back. “I'm not known for being easy.”  
Duncan grimaced and got up, then turned away. In an instant he swung back, the pistol catching Jamie high on her right cheek and knocking her sideways into the arm of the chair. She cried out and put her hands up to shield her head. She was breathing quickly from the explosion of pain in her face, but when no other blow was made she uncurled and sat up again, blood smearing her lips from a cut inside her mouth. Duncan stood over her, the pistol in his hand held barrel first. His expression was impassive.   
“Do you need further encouragement? How do I change the destination?”  
Jamie remained silent, steeling herself for the next blow. It wasn't long in coming. He hit the same area on her face and split the skin, making her scream in pain and snapped her head to the side. She didn't recover so quickly this time. Her head was ringing and the whole side of her face was on fire. Much more slowly this time she pushed against the arm of the chair and got herself upright, her face swollen and blood oozing from the gash under her eye.   
“Tell me what I need to know?” he asked, standing over her and frowning. “Why put yourself through this?”  
Jamie shook her head. “Fuck you.”  
He raised his arm and she flinched, unable to stop herself. He saw it and stopped before landing another blow with the gun. Instead, he put the gun down and reached for her, lifting her up and out of the chair. Jamie stared at him from her unswollen eye.   
“No, fuck you,” was all he said before he rabbit punched her and she went out like a light, dropping to the carpet, unconscious, at his feet. 

After a thorough search, he found the manual and the information he needed. After reprogramming the autopilot, he steadied himself against the bar as the plane banked, changing direction. The woman, Jamie, was still laying on the floor, her hair covering her face, hands and feet still bound. He poured himself a drink, then rummaged for something substantial to eat. He was mildly pissed that he'd had to resort to violence against her, but she'd been warned and chose to ignore them. He thought she was smarter than that. Still, he'd take fear over rebellion any day. Her current wounds were superficial and would heal in time. He'd have to find a way to disable her but allow her to move about and take care of using the toilet. Taking advantage of her insensibility, he went exploring, opening cupboards and drawers as he went, looking for anything he could use to immobilise or secure his captive while still allowing her a short amount of freedom. He knew what he wanted, it just depended on if he could find it. In a short corridor, he found a number of cupboards and drawers, a number of items in them suggesting ways they could be used. In one of the drawers, he saw a button and pressed it, the cabinet concealing a door to the lower deck, revealing another large cage that looked substantial enough to house a tiger. Going back upstairs, he kept the cage in mind, then gathered the bits he'd found and took them to one of the unused bedrooms. He didn't use her own as she could have hidden any number of useful things in there, that would aid in her escape. By using the other room, it was unlikely there was anything helpful hidden away, and it would take that much longer for her to escape. Dumping the gear on the bed, he searched the room thoroughly and emptied it of anything she could possibly use to get free. Then he went to the lounge and picked up the woman, carrying her to the bedroom and laying her on the floor. Using tools he'd found, he secured a coil of heavy-weight chain to the side of the bed, measuring the length so it reached to the small ensuite, then padlocked that to a metal collar, which he fixed around her neck, the fastening at the back to make it harder for her to fiddle with it. That done, he snipped the plastic ties and freed her hands and feet. Careful to pick up all the tools, he left her there and closed the bedroom door behind him. Now he could relax. 

Part Two – Yucatan Peninsular, Mexico.

Pain was the first thing she became aware of as she slowly awoke to her surroundings. Her face felt enormous, swollen and hot, aggravated by the fact she was laying on that side and it was pressed against the carpet. With a groan, she reached up to cradle her face, noticing as she did so that her hands were free. She tentatively tried to move her feet and found they were no longer bound, much to her relief. She then attempted to open her eyes, panicking for a second when only one eyelid obeyed her command, and that only a slit. It was enough to alert her she was in a bedroom, on the floor and the door open to the corridor. Her first instinct was to escape, but then she swallowed, her mouth dry, and discovered why she was nominally free. Her fingers scrabbled at the metal collar encasing her throat and she whimpered. It wasn't so tight as to constrict her breathing, but it was a heavy weight about her neck and prevented her from laying on her back, the bolt and padlock pushing into her nape if she tried. Her eyesight blurred as tears welled, of pain and self-pity, unable to find the will to get up.

Duncan heard her, heard the chain clinking indicating she was moving about and he stood in the doorway, observing her. One side of her face was heavily swollen and he winced in sympathy, then returned his expression to its usual mask of indifference.   
“You should get up,” he said, noticing the flinch she was unable to prevent. She ignored him, pulling her knees up to protect her body. Growling under his breath, he crouched down beside her and assessed her condition. Her face looked unbelievably painful, but laying on the floor wasn't going to help it get any better. He made to pick her up, but she tried to push his hands away. He caught her wrists in one hand and pulled her upright.   
“Stop fighting!”  
Her head was swimming and her vision blurred, black spots dancing in front of her one good eye. She felt sick and for a moment wished she could let herself throw up on him, but the moment passed and she was picked up and carried to the bed, the weight of the heavy chain dragging on the collar. He put her down so she could lay on her uninjured left side, the pillow cool under her wet cheek, but now her vision was limited, smooshed as it was in the cotton pillowcase. Duncan had left her there, stalking out of the room, and she wasn't sorry he'd gone. Only now she registered that the plane engines were quiet, indicating they'd landed somewhere. She wanted to know where, but she also wanted to give in to the darkness and let it carry the pain away.   
Something cold touched her face and she jerked back, a hand holding her shoulder and keeping her in place. The cold something was back, making her hiss as it made contact with the tight skin, but soon she was almost sighing in bliss, the icecubes numbing the whole side of her face and bringing relief from the throbbing agony. He was sitting on the side of the bed next to her, her body curled around his hip while he held the cold pack to her face. Warmth radiated from him and there was that familiar smell again. For all the pain he'd caused her, she couldn't regret that he was alive. She assumed he'd been found by a Shepherd before the Razorbacks could finish him off, but somehow he'd lost his memory of her, of his team, of everything and been reborn as Charles Duncan. Now, years after everyone thought him dead and gone, he reappears on her plane, apparently on a mission to kill her.   
The hand holding the icepack lifted it off her face and she blindly reached up to keep it there, her fingers encountering his arm, feeling the hair-roughened skin before sliding down to his wrist to pull it back to her face.   
Duncan let her tug on his hand to replace the icepack, the touch of her fingers on his skin so unusual he didn't shake them off, letting her hold his wrist in place, staring at the slender digits with their shell-pink nails, smooth and pale compared to his larger, work-roughened hands. In the years he'd been with Abigail, after he'd gone through the initial physiotherapy, he had never been physically touched, not by her and not by anyone else. He'd been celibate from choice, absorbed by his work and traveling the world with Abigail, never once missing or wanting another person's touch. Now this injured woman, the damage done by himself, had her hand wrapped around his wrist to keep the ice pack against her skin and it was sending tendrils of something up his arm and making his heart beat harder.   
The ice was working its magic and numbing her face, reducing the agony to a dull thumping. She could feel the thread of life under the surface of his skin, a pulse that reinforced that he was alive and really beside her, not some fevered hallucination dreamt up after years of abstinence. She almost wanted to move her fingers in a tiny caress, the thought bringing her up short, reminding her that the man holding the ice pack was the same man who pistol-whipped her and inflicted the injuries in the first place. This wasn't Mitch risen from the grave beside her, this was a man who had no memory of her, or the team, even of the plane, for fuck's sake. This man was here to kill her, or so he said. Strange then, he was holding an icepack to her face. She let her fingers fall away from gripping his hand, the ice pack lifting immediately after.   
“I need to use the bathroom,” she stated, her voice low but clear.   
“I'm not stopping you. The chain will allow a limited amount of movement, to the bathroom and back, but that's all.” He placed the icepack on the bedside table and reached over to grip her arms, Jamie instantly flinching and pulling away. “I'm helping you, stop fighting me.”  
She stilled and let him continue to pull her upright, the weight of the chain pulling on her collar making it dig into her neck. She choked, reaching up to pull the metal ring forward to relieve the pressure. She opened her one good eye, to find herself almost nose to nose with Duncan, his eyes roving over her features, assessing her condition, gaging her possible reactions. For her part, she felt overwhelmed to be so near to him. His fingers gripped her upper arms tightly, but not painfully. “Take your time, I'll steady you.”  
She couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from him as he pulled her to the edge of the bed, then shifted so that he had one arm around her back, the other holding her forearm to lift her to her feet and start the short journey to the en-suite. Her legs were wobbly but held her upright as she shuffled in her socks towards the door to the bathroom. He made to keep going but she stopped.   
“I can manage from here,” she murmured. Instantly regretting her decision when his strength and warmth were withdrawn and she wavered. Determined to show no weakness, she braced herself on the doorway and took a step forward, each one after that firmer than the last, until she was inside the room, standing in front of the toilet. She still had one hand holding the weight of the collar forward, but now she had to let go and it instantly fell back, the chain's pull pressing it against her throat. Tears of frustration blurred her vision again and she swiped at them, careful not to touch the swollen area of her face. Something loomed at her side and she flinched away.  
“It's your reflection,” a laconic voice spoke from the doorway. Not yet up to the task of inspecting the damage he'd done, she fired back.  
“A little privacy would be nice.”  
“My plane, my rules. You wanted the bathroom, now get on with it.”  
The pale of her face was replaced with a fiery blush as she realized he was going to watch her use the toilet. Anger replaced embarrassment and she started to unbutton her jeans, her back to him.   
“Fuck you,” she muttered, pushing her tight denims down her thighs, followed by her underwear. Bare arsed she sat on the toilet, shutting her one eye to avoid seeing him in the doorway. Her body thanked her for being pragmatic, Jamie going through the process as if she was alone. When she made to pull her clothes back up she was told to stop.   
“I'll take those.” His voice sounded close and she opened her eye. He stood in front of her, hands resting easily on his hips, his expression implacable.   
“What?”  
“Kick off your jeans and knickers. You won't need those.”  
She gaped at him. “You have got to be kidding me...” He took a step towards her and she flinched back, cringing against the cistern, her hands coming up to protect her face. Instead, he was lifting her legs to tug her jeans down before pulling them off, her underwear following, leaving her in only her bra and t-shirt, which only just covered her decently. Then he was gone, with her clothes, leaving her to wash up and use the toothbrush set on the sink edge.   
Her mind was a mass of unhelpful worries as she went through the motions of brushing her teeth, her imagination wondering if this meant he would be her rapist next. Assassin, plane hijacker, abductor, now rapist? She dithered, as if there was anything in the bathroom to protect her if he came in. She lifted her chin and straightened her spine. She would not be a victim. She hadn't taken all those fucking self-defense classes to give in at the first hurdle. If he attacked her, she'd retaliate. Admittedly, being bare arsed had its drawbacks, and being collared and chained was a bit limiting, but she wouldn't go down without a fight. Her cheek started to throb and she put a hand up to cradle it.   
“Are you staying in there all day?” his voice carried to her and she jerked in response. Dammit, she told herself, stop doing that. On hesitant feet she left the bathroom and stood in the doorway, wishing the t-shirt was several inches longer, preferably down to her ankles.   
The bed covers were thrown back and he stood on the opposite side. He was standing with his arms folded across his chest, glaring at her.   
“Get in. I've put some pain medication and a cup of water on the bedside table. Take them.”  
Picking up a loop of the chain to take the weight off her neck, she approached the bed and sat on the side, her back to him. The sheets felt cool against her bottom, but she ignored that, downing the pills and taking a mouthful of water to wash them down. Carefully, she eased herself under the covers and on to her left side, the only position comfortable for her. This left her facing him.  
“I'll leave you to rest, but in case you had any ideas about attempting to escape I have a camera rigged up, motion activated, to keep an eye on you.” He pointed up to the corner near the door. A small surveillance camera was mounted there, currently zeroed in on Duncan. “I'll check in on you later.”  
He uncrossed his arms to reached over to pick up the ice bag, holding out for her to take. “I've refilled it with fresh ice.”  
Jamie took the bag and instantly settled it on her face, sighing as it started to numb the pain, reducing it to a dull throb.   
He turned to go, glancing back as he went through the door, but her eye was shut and she seemed relaxed under the covers. Satisfied he'd done all he needed to do, he left. 

He took the four-wheel drive, taking a control tablet with him. The private airfield was a short distance from the animal refuge where Abendegos had been transported once the specialized enclosure had been completed. He pulled up to the intimidatingly high-security gates and honked the horn. A guard came out, assault rifle pointing at the sky, and approached the vehicle.   
“Si, Senor?”  
“My name is Charles Duncan, I'm here to check up on Abedegos.” The guard looked him up and down then returned to the gate, pushing it open to let him through. He drove slowly through the animal sanctuary, noting that this was no ordinary zoo. The enclosures all had abnormally high fences, some with netting over the top as well. A few workers could be seen distributing feed to the animals, depending on their nature. The types of animals were split pretty much down the middle. On one side were the hybrids, moved over from Pangaea to Mexico, the source of the raw material needed to seed the nests. On the other were the domestic animals, food on the hoof for the carnivores – goats, sheep, alpacas, pigs, all destined to be food for the hybrids. In this collection alone they had two packs of Razorbacks, a flock of giant vultures, a small herd of the heavily armored rhino-like hybrids, along with a water tank containing modified octopus, and a completely snake proof glass tank to keep, as yet, baby giant anaconda. The reason for the glass tank was easy to explain, the anaconda could turn invisible, so you never knew where the fuckers were. They were pretty much left to their own devices, a gas used to subdue them if fresh samples were required. It was like the most dangerous, specialized zoo in the world, where no one visited and security was high. If you made a mistake, you died and became food, if you didn't follow the rules, you died and became food. It was quite simple. The anacondas were euthanized and harvested of their eggs or sperm, once they reached an unmanageable size, usually about the time they started eating the youngsters. Their flesh was then, in turn, used as food for others, leaving the young anaconda's to grow on, until their time came. A large building loomed in front of him. He stopped the truck and got out, walked into the building and acknowledged the guard on duty.   
“How has he been?” Duncan asked. The man tilted his head to the gallery walk that looked down into Abendegos enclosure.  
“He is smart. Don't trust him.”  
With the guard's taciturn report, he entered the gallery, looking down into the enclosure, searching for the great ape-human hybrid. The enclosure had been extensively planted to provide interest and shade, several of the trees mature enough to produce fruit, along with a range of playground equipment that needed kinetic input, as well as a number of passive installation for him to challenge himself against. Together with the range of enrichment programmes proposed, Abendegos should be enjoying his new home. It certainly had space. The gallery was made of heavy-duty mesh, sufficient to protect the watcher from the occupant. He found out why seconds later.   
The sound of something rushing through the vegetation was his only warning, and then Abendegos was gripping the mesh in front of him, all six foot plus of him snarling through the wire, inches from Duncan's face.   
“Hey, big guy. Told you I'd be back.” He stood his ground, eyeing the long fangs with respect. The hybrid eyed him up, his nostrils flaring, yellow teeth bared.  
“Duncan,” the word was slurred and growled, but he could still make it out. Abendegos had spoken his name.   
“That's right, Abendegos, my name is Duncan, you remembered.”  
“Duncan,” the creature repeated, then he suddenly swung away, gripping the wire mesh with his fingers and toes and putting on an impressive display of strength and agility despite not having the specialized grip of a true ape. Duncan stayed where he was, watching the immensely over developed ape work his way around the edge of the enclosure and back to his visitor. His expression was still fierce, but his eyes showed a softness that hadn't been there before. Duncan still kept himself back from the mesh, out of reach of the long fingers with their orange nails. Abendegos chuffed at his visitor, making hooting noises in between the occasional word, mangled because of the teeth, but still discernible if you listened. He spent two hours with the hybrid, walking around the gallery, Abendegos following, sometimes heading down to the ground, then climbing up again to keep pace with Duncan's slow walk. At the end of the visit, the ape listened as Duncan said goodbye, then the creature held his hand flat to the wire. Duncan hesitated, then mirrored the gesture, the two of them pressing their palms to the wire, the only physical contact during the whole visit. 

Jamie awoke to find she could just barely open her swollen eye a little bit. The ice pack had reduced the swelling considerably, but now the icepack was just water, and the pain was enough to wring a moan from her throat.   
“Here. Take these.”  
She jerked, the chain rattling, on hearing his voice. She squinted up at him, feeling exposed and vulnerable in the bed, while he loomed over her, holding out a plastic cup and white pills for her to take. She shuffled up the bed, taking the covers with her to maintain the flimsy barrier between them. She held out her hand and he dropped the pills into it, holding out the cup for her to take. When she was done he took the cup back.   
“I'll refill the icepack.”   
She watched him leave, not at all sure of his mood. She wondered if he was playing mind games with her, beating her with one hand while healing her with the other. She put her hand up to her head to smooth back her bed messed hair, wondering if she asked for different clothes, would he give them to her? Soon enough he was back with the refilled icepack and she instantly pressed it to her cheek. He stood there, staring at her as if dissecting her thoughts.   
“I need some fresh clothes.”  
“They're already in the drawers.”  
“Oh. Okay.”  
“Get changed, I'll be back with something for you to eat.” He turned to go.  
“I don't think I can eat...” Jamie called after him, but he ignored her and left the room, not shutting the door behind him.   
Grinding her teeth, carefully, she put the ice pack on the bedside table and got off the bed, picking up a length of the chain so it didn't pull on her neck. Crouching down, she checked the chest of drawers, finding them full of only her assortment of button up check and plaid shirts, most of them the ones she'd kept of his, a twist of irony that wasn't lost on her given her current predicament. In the top drawer were several pairs of underwear, but no bras or camisoles, not even socks. There were no shoes or boots either. She pulled out one of his old checkered shirts and swapped it for the t-shirt she was wearing, an awkward procedure because it couldn't come off over her head and had to be stretched and pulled down over her body. The shirt was a piece of cake in comparison and she was also glad to put on some underwear, giving her a boost of confidence. Now she was covered from neck to wrist to just above her knees. She didn't like being controlled like this, but at least the important bits were covered.   
She visited the bathroom, closing the door as far as it would go before using the toilet. Afterward, she leaned on the sink and squinted at her image in the mirror. It looked horrible. The cut itself wasn't so bad. It would leave a mark and currently was crusted with a dark scab, but it was the swelling that disfigured her face and would bruise spectacularly. She touched the surface of the skin, very tentatively, feeling the tightness and heat. Inside her mouth felt weird, her tongue not fitting properly with the swollen cheek pressing against her teeth. Her lips were back to normal, but moving her injured side of her face was impossible, giving her a lopsided appearance when she talked or smiled, not that she had much to smile about. She finger combed her hair as she had no brush or comb, frowning at her reflection.   
When she walked back into the bedroom he was there, waiting for her. He'd put a tray beside the bed and waited for to sit down. Jamie stared at the bowl.  
“Porridge?”  
“It's thin enough you can use the straw and swallow it down without having to chew.”  
Jamie felt a sliver of warmth well up inside her. Determined to quell it, she lashed out.   
“How solicitous of you. Not many assassin care for their targets so well. I thought I was a dead woman walking?” Her tone had been cutting.  
“Keep up the sarcasm and you will be, a lot sooner than you think,” he snapped back. 

So much for feeling sorry for her. He grimaced at her back, noting that her rebellion had been short-lived, her shoulders now slumped, her body bracing as if expecting retaliation. The spurt of anger at her sarcasm drained away. Whatever she did, it was all for show, bravado to keep from sinking into fear and despair at her situation. He admired her for trying, but wouldn't allow her to think she had the upper hand. Turning on his heel he left the room.

Jamie cursed inwardly for not curbing her tongue. She was at this man's mercy, chained like a dog and unable to free herself. Even if she screamed her head off, it was unlikely that anyone would hear her outside the plane. If he chose to leave her, she would quickly starve to death, even if she had access to water. If she wanted to have any hope of getting out of the collar and off the plane, she would have to play nice and somehow find a heart in him. The fact he hadn't killed her already said something, maybe meant he was intrigued by her or just plain curious. Maybe he was curious about the man he'd been before. If she engaged him in conversation about that it might open a door for her. She'd need her face to be more presentable if she was to have any hope of using what attributes she had to woo him.   
She leant forward and took up the straw, holding it steady while she sucked up the porridge. It was warm and sweet and slid down her throat easily. Her stomach rumbled and she bent to the task of eating all there was, making gurgling noise to get the last bits, which made her smile, albeit crookedly. Her stomach now full, she sat on the bed and waited. The room was one that hadn't been used yet, so there was none of the usual ephemera that people tucked away in drawers and bathrooms, which meant there was nothing to take her mind off her captivity. Sunlight was pouring through the windows and she decided to see if she could make out where they were. Dragging the chain behind her, there was enough for her to reach the window and look out. The aircraft was sitting on a concrete runway, the edges bordered by thick jungle, the vibrant green hues and varied plant life, plus lack of any visible buildings either nearby or in the distance, suggested it was a private, rural airfield situated a long way from any city. She had no idea how long they'd been in the air after taking off from New York, and no idea what part of the world they might be in, other than possibly close to the equator. That suggested an island in the Caribbean, or possibly South America, maybe somewhere like Panama? She hadn't realized she muttered the name of the country out loud.  
“Well done. You're not far off.”   
She swung around, having not heard him enter the room. She gripped the chain tightly, a vague notion of using it to fend him off, then the thought evaporated. Without him, she was doomed to die a slow and painful death.   
“Very sensible of you. I've heard that death by starvation is particularly nasty.”  
Apparently, he could read her mind as well. Jamie lifted her chin.   
“Thank you for the porridge.”  
“Hmmm change of tactics, good idea. Although if you are thinking to seduce me, I prefer nothing over something, and you might want to wait until...” he waggled his fingers at her face. “That all goes down. It's not exactly attractive.”  
The anger rose in her like molten lava. “Fuck. You!!” she spat back, the effect spoiled by her crooked mouth. Her eyes glittered and she turned away to look out the window. The brief adrenaline rush left her shaking.  
With a dark chuckle, her tormentor gathered up the tray and left the room.

The days that followed slipped into a regular pattern. He would supply her with a fresh icepack, regular food and pain medication. She would take or eat whatever he brought, with only the occasional rise to the bait if he commented or made a smart remark. Her cheek was healing, the swelling around her eye subsiding enough for her to be able to see out and blink comfortably. It was all the colors of the rainbow and phenomenally ugly to look at, especially her eye which was completely bloodshot. He rarely made comments about her looks but did supply her with her hairbrush to get the snarls out of her messy bed-hair. Taking a shower with the collar and chain proved interesting. He supplied her with a bottle of shampoo and towels, but nothing else, so she made do. He insisted the bathroom door be left open, which she argued against and lost. She consoled herself that if he wanted to perve at her, it would all help towards her campaign of ultimately getting out of the collar. How she was going to do that was still a little fuzzy, only because she refused to put a word on what she'd have to do. She'd told herself she'd have to woo him, but in reality, she was going to have to go the whole hog and seduce the man, get him to trust her enough to release her and the only weapon she had for that was herself. But not while she looked like she'd gone ten rounds with a prize boxer. By the end of a week her face had returned to its normal proportions, the skin mottled but no longer swollen or distended. Her black eye was truly spectacular, the colors changing almost every day, and the broken blood vessels in her eye slowly receding.   
To keep herself occupied she did yoga, hampered by the collar and chain, but not impossible. On the third day when she awoke, a stack of books had been placed on the chest of drawers and she almost cried with relief. Boredom had set in the second day and physical exercise only filled up so much time. Having the books, even ones she'd already read, made the time pass quickly. Apart from bringing her tray of food, Duncan didn't venture into her room unless to remove discarded clothes for washing, or the tray until the next meal. She no longer needed pain pills, and if thirsty, drank from the sink in the bathroom. 

Duncan passed his days, in-between meals and delivering food to his captive, by sitting at the computer hub surfing the web, catching up on news, or watching the captive. He deliberately forced himself to refer to her as the captive, to prevent him slipping into the dangerous habit of thinking of her as a person, as Jamie. He sat, sometimes for hours, watching her pass the time. He liked it best when she was doing yoga, stretching and twisting her lithe body into different poses, hampered by the chain so that sometimes she lost her composure and silently swore at the thing, but then she'd get back into her groove and perform another delicate balancing pose and he'd be admiring her all over again. It wasn't as if she was doing it deliberately to entice or titillate him, she was just doing something that showed off the lines of her body, as much as the shirts would allow, and the strength in her limbs, an enticement all of its own. Her hair was another source of entertainment for him. She had nothing to tie it back with when she was doing some of the downward facing poses, and it would get in her face, irritating her. It wasn't long enough yet to twist into a knot, so once or twice she'd get so mad at it she'd back-brush it furiously until it stuck out all around her head, frozen into a tangle, but at last off her face, allowing her to do the poses without interference. Then, afterward, she'd have to spend an hour brushing it out and back to the straight cut it normally fell in to. It was all unknown territory for him, having no memory of other females in his life, other than Abigail, and he'd never seen her do any of the things this woman did. He hadn't switched the camera angle to take in the bathroom yet, so hadn't watched her take a shower or seen her naked. Not that he wasn't tempted, he just wasn't prepared to let his body dictate when he did things. For years he'd subdued any urges his body had inconveniently thrown at him, ignoring any response to stimuli and squashing all twinges of physical need that arose. But now, secluded away, he was starting to see some merit in letting his physical urges manifest themselves. Ever since she'd touched him, a faint tingle in response running up his arm under his skin, he'd felt a restlessness start to grow. Soon, he'd have to see where that took him. 

In the ten days it took for the bruising and discoloration to finally heal, she had managed to work through every stretching routine, meditative discipline and yoga pose she could remember. Her body was toned and supple and she felt full of energy. The collar irked her more and more each day, her temper rising each time it restricted something she wanted to do. She had asked for material to soften the edges, a few days into wearing it, because it was starting to rub where it rested at the base of her neck. Duncan suggested tearing up a t-shirt, so she asked him to cut one up. He returned with the strips and she covered the collar with fabric. It helped but didn't stop it being there, an ever-present torment. She wanted to scream at the confining walls, wanted to rip and tear, something inside of her clawing to get out, a sensation not unlike claustrophobia. She hid it from Duncan when he brought her the tray, but it was getting stronger with every hour that passed. The books no longer entertained her and she sometimes found herself pacing like a caged tiger, her thoughts a jumble. She needed to change the situation. 

Duncan approached the computer console and switched them on. It was early, but he was feeling cooped up and restless. It was possibly time to find a new bolt hole. He'd employed a ground crew to service the plane and get it refueled, ready for takeoff. But now the satisfaction of taking action was wearing off and the restlessness was back. He looked at the monitors, glancing at Jamie's room and almost choked. She was going through her morning yoga routine, but this time she was doing the familiar poses and stretches without a stitch of clothing on. He felt his mouth fall open and stared transfixed as she performed her slow dance, sunlight playing over her skin, gilding it as she moved, the muscles clearly defined when she twisted and turned, her face a mask of serene concentration, eyes closed and mouth pressed into a line. It was mesmerizing. 

Jamie hummed to herself, some ditty she remembered from her past. She used it to time her holds, going through her routine smoothly, one move melding into the next, balancing and stretching, each change accompanied by the metallic clink of the chain. Doing it naked gave the whole experience a new and exciting dimension. She didn't hear anything, but something prompted her to open her eyes. In the doorway stood Duncan, his dark eyes watching her. She finished the pose then stood upright, her hands gravitating to her hips.   
“No breakfast?” she queried, seeing no tray.   
“Later. It's early yet.”  
She shrugged, her breast echoing the movement, instantly drawing his gaze. Ignoring him, she lifted her arms to do a stretch, pulling her flesh upwards, then bent forward at the waist to touch the ground, exposing the line of her back. When she straightened up he was still there.  
“Did you want something?” she asked, her tone bordering on dismissive. It was the goad he was waiting for.   
“Yes. But are you prepared for the consequence of your actions?”  
She looked up at him sharply. “My actions? This is entirely a result of yours. Don't blame me.”  
He grinned and started to walk towards her, pulling off his t-shirt over his head. “Just can't resist, can you, always with the sass.”  
Jamie started to back away, the chain dragging across the carpet with a hiss. “Don't even think of touching me!”  
He started to undo the fly of his jeans, pushing them low on his hips. “Oh, I think you want me to do a lot more than just touch you, otherwise what's the point of all this?” He reached out his hand and she danced out of reach, but soon came up against the wall, the light outside streaming past the outline of her body, casting it into shadow and shade.  
She tilted her chin up, his body starting to fill her vision, the sunlight highlighting the weals and scars covering his shoulders and torso. She sucked in a breath, faced as she was with the physical evidence of what had happened back at Pangaea, what the hybrids had done to him. The game was forgotten for a moment as reality sank in and she stared at the damaged skin, the evidence of deep gashes and painful wounds cut into his flesh, scraping across his ribs, his collarbone, digging into his side and hip.  
Duncan stood still, seeing the change in her and puzzled by it. She reached out a shaking hand to trace one of the scars that marred his skin, her touch feather-light, her face folded into an expression of distress as if feeling the pain of the injuries herself. Looking down he considered how they must look to her, his indifference to them taking a back seat to her obvious shock.   
“They don't hurt,” he muttered quietly. Her quick glance up at him halting her gentle exploration.  
“I'm so sorry...” she started to say, then snapped her lips together to cut off anything further. Her hand left off touching his skin and he missed it instantly. She closed her eyes for a moment, pushing back the swell of emotion at seeing what he'd suffered all those years ago. When she opened them again she was back in the game.  
“No wonder you're so fucked up. Have you ever taken your shirt off since that happened?”  
He bared his teeth. “As you can see,I was saving that treat just for you.” He planted his hands either side of her head and bent down. At the last moment, Jamie turned her head away, his mouth landing somewhere near her ear. He leaned back and stared at her profile, then wrapped his hand around her chin and forced her to face him.   
“You know I can play rough. Is that how you want this to go?” He stared into her eyes, seeing them glitter back at him. She minutely shook her head, keeping it still when he lowered his head for the second time and fitted his mouth over hers. It was so unlike the last kiss they shared it bore no relationship to that at all. This one was hot and angry, hard and demanding, her lips crushed under his, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth to tangle with hers. She felt light-headed, her hands coming up to flatten against his chest, feeling the hot skin and silky hair against her palms. One of his hands was holding the back of her head, keeping her trapped, tilting her neck back to accept his exploration of her mouth, giving her nowhere to go, no way to move. Everything was happening too fast, her pulse racing and her heart thundering. Then he moved, stepping back and pulling her with him, his mouth moving over hers, biting and sucking, his hands bracketing her head, keeping her tied to him, her hands coming up to wraps around his forearms, steadying herself as they walked the few steps to the bed, the chain slithering along behind them.


	5. Folie A  Deux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: uncensored sex between adults, mind games, questionable consent in a hostage situation, angst and moral issues. What would you do given the situation and the man involved?

Part One – The Plane – Mexico.

The bed bounced when they hit it together, Jamie on her back, Duncan on top of her still wearing his jeans. When the bed quivered into stillness, they pulled back and stared at each other. She reached up to remove his glasses, slowly drawing them off his face. He took them from her and reached over to place them on the nightstand. When he turned back, facing her, he pushed away, standing up and proceeded to take off his remaining clothes, kicking them off the side. Now he was a naked as Jamie.  
“Move up the bed.” His gruff order snapped her out of her daze, her limbs clumsy as she tried to get the chain to move up with her, the wretched thing snagging on the covers and jerking the collar. When she reached the pillows she pushed the covers down and lay back on the sheet, watching him. He pulled the covers further down the bed, then got onto it, kneeling astride her legs.  
Seeing him naked was a first for her, as much as seeing her was for him. Her eyes wandered hungrily over his body, noting the scars but dismissing them in favor of the man as a whole. The Mitch she'd known had never been a fitness fanatic, not fat but not lean either. Lack of a six pack had never been a hang up for her, so she'd never thought twice about it. Looking at the man poised above her, she thought she might have to revise that thinking. Duncan not only didn't sound like Mitch, or behave like him, he had a body any man his age would have died for. He wasn't ripped, but he was lean and muscled in all the right places, his chest nicely defined and decorated with a dark pelt of silky looking hair. From his navel, a dark line of hair arrowed downward, drawing the eye to his sex, currently at half mast as if he was just now rethinking the whole naked experience.   
“Something wrong?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.   
Not wanting to poke a tiger when it was stalking her, Jamie shook her head and remained mute.   
“What? No sass? No smart ass comeback?”  
Again she shook her head, not sure what type of beast she was letting into her bed.  
Duncan leaned down, bracing himself on his hands either side of her body. “No objections?” he purred, barring his teeth.  
Jamie was sure he must be able to see her heart practically beating out of her chest. “No.”  
Her whisper gave him permission to once more capture her mouth and dive in, her hands coming up to push against his chest, fingers curling in that enticing hair, finding a nipple and smoothing over it. He suddenly pulled back far enough to lift her legs from under him, bend them back at the knee and spread them either side of his thighs. He leaned forward again, one hand now up near her head, the other finding the flesh between her legs.   
Jamie hissed and made to pull away but he grabbed the chain and yanked, pinning her to the pillow, her hands grabbing his arm to release the pressure on her neck.   
“You're hurting me.”  
“Then keep still.”  
“I'm dry...without something...” she paused and licked her lips. “What's the rush? This could be so much more enjoyable with a little foreplay?”  
He could feel her shaking, whether in fear or anticipation he couldn't tell. Her hands were still trying to get him to let go of the chain, which he did, her relief evident in her eyes. He sat up, her legs still wide apart, one either side of him.   
“You know this body better than I do, what does he like?”  
“Actually, I don't. Mitch and I never...we hadn't got to that stage yet.”  
“He never fucked you? Was he blind?”  
“We ran out of time.”   
He sat back on his heel, his hands resting on his thighs. The woman had an uncanny knack for knocking him off his feet.   
“This bed is fucking crowded with three in it...” He made to move off the bed, but Jamie reared up and grabbed his arm, halting him.   
“Please. I'm sorry, I won't mention him again...don't go.” She pulled her legs up under her and knelt in front of him, the difference in their height negligible now. When he didn't move away, she pressed closer, approaching him tentatively, her hands smoothing up his arms and over his shoulders, her body so close the points of her breast were brushing against his chest, leaving sparks of awareness everywhere they touched. His breathing slowed and he remained still while she grew brave and started to kiss him, first his lips, then his cheek, his brows, and forehead, sweeping his hair back while kissing his temple before tonguing his ear and sucking on his earlobe.   
“See? Isn't this nice?” her quiet whisper made the hair stand up on his arm. She moved closer still, sitting astride his thighs, in his lap, his cock nestling against her core, heat enveloping him and bringing a surge of blood to his loins.  
Jamie felt him stiffen beneath her and smiled, bending her head to find his lips again, while his arms wrapped around her and he flattened his hands against her back, holding her close. Slowly, she started to flex her pelvis, small movements back and forth against his rigid flesh, their kisses turning heated again, her fingers combing over his head, scratching his scalp while she wrapped her arms around his neck.   
When he slowly lowered her onto her back she was swollen and wet, his cock coated in her own slickness, a flex of his hips bringing the swollen head between her folds and seeking entrance. This time she made no protest, bending her knees to cradle him more fully between her legs. He pushed forward and they were joined, both breathing heavily, Jamie shifting to seat him more fully.   
“Fuck, you're tight...so, so nice and tight.” He withdrew slightly then surged forward, finding her mouth again and kissing her deeply, mirroring with his tongue what his cock was doing further down. They rocked together, bodies undulating, arms wrapped around the other as they filled and fulfilled each body's purpose. Duncan tore his mouth away from her and raised himself up, looking down their bodies to see himself enter and retreat, Jamie tilting her hips to draw him in deeper. He plunged and she rose to meet him, sweat blooming on his skin, his muscles clenching in rhythm with his movements, their combined heat making the perfume of their sex infuse and surround them.   
There were no words to describe how he felt, his body striving for something just out of his reach, lungs heaving, the smell of her body intoxicating and sweet, her heat welcoming him and driving him on. His release took him by surprise, his backside clenching as he drove forward, pulsing his essence into her, shouting out as he shuddered and shook, every muscle rigid as he tried to fill her, claim her, brand her with his body.   
As quickly as it overwhelmed him, it passed and he collapsed, still encased in her heat, his thighs twitching as if to wring every last drop from him. He blissed out, head coming to rest against her breastbone, breath hot and moist against her skin.   
Jamie welcomed his weight, enfolded him against her with her legs and arms, stroked her hand over his head, smoothing the sweat soaked hair. She wasn't to know she was his first since he awoken several years ago, his denial for all that time making it impossible for his body to last long enough to bring her along with him.   
Finding her release wasn't the point of the exercise, she reminded herself. This was about building trust, of creating something between them so he'd eventually let her out of the collar, give her freedom again. If she got pleasure from the physical act, that was a bonus, but its purpose was to give her back control of her life. Nothing more.   
His breathing was evening out, the sweat drying on his back. Without warning he pulled out of her arms and out of her body, moving to the side to lay on his back against the cooler sheet. She lay still for a moment, slowly lowering her legs to slide them down the bed. She became aware of the feel of moistness seeping from her core and shifted to move off the wet patch spreading beneath her. Despite the warmth of the cabin, she shivered and made to cover herself, but his feet held the top sheet and cover hostage. She made to rise up and reach for them, but he beat her to it, grabbing the covers and yanking them back up the bed, tossing them haphazardly over her body. Since his inarticulate cry when he climaxed, he'd not said a word, only the rasp of his breathing matching hers.   
“Thank you,” she murmured, pulling the covers up to her armpits. He lay there, the sheet coming up to his waist, an arm flung over his face, hiding his eyes and his expression.   
The minutes ticked by, Jamie tense and expectant, wondering what would happen next. Duncan lay uncommunicative, the arm flung over his face slowly sliding down to rest across his chest. It was then she realized he'd fallen asleep, so typically male she almost laughed out loud. She wondered at him being so tired, thinking that maybe he hadn't slept or been sleeping well at night. She also wondered if she had something to do with that. She glanced up at the camera keeping watch in the corner of the room and mulled over how long he must sit at the console just watching her go through her daily routines. When she thought about it, she realized she'd only been halfway through her usual morning stretch when he'd appeared. Apparently, he'd liked what he saw.  
Feeling a little more satisfied that things were heading in the right direction, she turned her head to look at him, taking advantage of the opportunity. Asleep, he was back to being her Mitch, his face a little more hirsute than normal, dark lashes and black brows, clear demarcations lending strength to his face, his lips neatly outlined, slightly parted as he breathed. With the loss of his excess weight, his jaw was well defined and sharp, a pulse beating steadily under the skin. His overlong hair was brushed back from his high forehead, the skin there lined, but not deeply so. She was surprised to see a small sprinkling of grey in his whiskers, an indicator of his age perhaps or a result of the trauma he'd gone through. The age gap between them had never been brought up, at least by her, but she'd presumed from the start that he was in his early forties when they first met, which would put him past forty-five now and heading for fifty. That put a minimum of ten years between them, more like stretching to fifteen. If they'd not been torn apart, back on Pangaea, if the gas hadn't been dropped, if their relationship had progressed apace, she could have already had his child, maybe two, the thought bringing tears to her eyes. She turned her head away and stared up at the ceiling, willing the tears to dry up. Stupid, stupid, stupid to think about such maudlin fantasies. Children were a thing of the past. Even if a cure was found and distributed, she was in no position to have or rear a child. Mitch was dead, and Duncan didn't lend himself as much of a father figure. He probably didn't know he had a child already.   
The man beside her muttered and shifted in his sleep, legs moving under the covers. She froze, as if her thoughts had somehow caused his restlessness. He settled and she let out a slow breath. She had no idea how long he would sleep, so she settled on her side, facing away from him, and tried to relax enough to rest. With his body heat warming her back, she slipped into a doze, dreaming of places and people from her past. 

He blinked up at the ceiling of the bedroom, disorientated for a second or two. He looked down at himself at the same time memory poured in and he let his head fall back onto the pillow. Fuck, that had been one hell of a rush. He felt wonderfully relaxed right down to his toes, his skin unusually sensitive when he idly ran his fingers up and down his chest. He felt warmth down one side and turned his head to look at the source. She was on her side, slightly curled up away from him, her skin creamy with a smattering of pale freckles, to be expected in a redhead. He could see the bumps of her spine under the flesh, the faint impression of ribs further down. Her soft bottom was just touching his hip, warm and silky and hot. His body responded, rising and thickening, a small twisting movement bringing the head of his cock to rest against the rounded globes. He turned carefully onto his side, for some reason not wanting to wake her, his hand guiding his length so it slipped into the moistness between her legs, still wet and slick from their previous actions. He flexed his hip, clenching his buttocks to push and pull himself against her pelvic floor, fucking the gap between her thighs, aided by the moist warmth. He wriggled closer, his hand landing on her hip, holding her in place, his body probing to find her opening, sliding inside when he did, encasing himself in her body, shallowly at first, then deeper with each thrust. He felt her move, indicating she was no longer asleep, her knees drawing up to give him greater access, her back pressing against his front. He grunted against her shoulder, opening his mouth to suck on the rounded flesh, his hand rising up to grasp a soft breast, pulling her back further, all the time trying to push more of him inside her, groaning when he pulled back too far and slipped out of her body altogether. He stopped moving, panting to regain control, his heart racing, hers too, feeling it flutter under his hand holding her breast.   
“On your back,” he growled into her hair, Jamie complying moments later and laying back in the space he made, her legs held wide as he repositioned himself, sliding back inside her and setting up a slow pace. She lay beneath him, eyes closed and face relaxed, no visible reaction to his possession of her.   
“Look at me!” he commanded and she opened her eyes, meeting his intensity with a slumberous gaze that dared him to misuse her, her breasts moving with each thrust of his body, her hands laying relaxed beside her head instead of touching him. As enjoyable as the fucking was, he wanted more.  
“Touch me,” he growled, her hands instantly rising to stroke over his chest, plucking at the nipples hidden in the dark pelt, the pinch sending spikes of pleasure straight to his prick.  
“Do that again,” he ordered, Jamie pinching the tiny nubs of skin more forcefully, his groans and faster thrusts an indication that she was doing it right. His face was a picture, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open as he drew in air, brows folded as he approached his climax, neck corded with the effort and then he was coming, jerking and jolting his body against hers, burying himself inside her to the root, arms barely holding him up. He head fell forward, his hair brushing across her chest while he pulsed inside her, giving a final jerking thrust before stilling. Still deeply seated, he slowly lowered himself down until he was close enough to take one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking it strongly and drawing on the flesh, his body pressing down on hers until they were flush, his elbows holding him up enough to suckle her breast.  
She lay back and let him feast on her, her hands once again lax at her side, elbows bent, fingers near her shoulders, palm up. Again she hadn't come close to finding her own pleasure, but it was good enough that he wanted her, felt desire for the act between them and found his own release in, what looked to her, a very satisfactory way.   
He once more moved to get off her, pulling out with a grimace, leaving her bathed in his seed, sticky and tingling.  
Moving slowly she sat up and swung her legs off the bed, moisture instantly trickling out and coating her inner thighs. Standing up, she picked up the chain and walked to the bathroom to take a shower, leaving the bed to him.   
Under the hot water, she reached a hand between her legs, feeling the slick fluid seeping out of her body, using that to stimulate herself and bring on an orgasm. Afterward, she let the shampoo froth wash it all away and leave her clean again. After hastily toweling dry her hair, she wrapped a dry one about her body and walked into the bedroom.   
She had expected him to have gone, but he was still there, recumbent against the sheets, looking like a dangerous, saturnine predator, long-limbed and relaxed, but ready for action.  
Jamie padded to the bed and sat down, her back to him. With studied casualness she started to brush out her hair, the chain now falling from her nape, straight down her spine to the mattress.   
She had thought he'd gone back to sleep, but a slight tug on the chain told her otherwise. 

He ran his hand down the links, the metal still holding the heat from the shower. Her hair almost hid the collar, but it was obviously there, still wrapped in pieces of soft material to prevent it marring her skin. He fingered the links, letting them fall, slippery and hard, through his fingers back to the bed. They certainly made a statement, the collar as well, but maybe he could find something that wasn't so rigid, so hard against the soft flesh of her throat. The chain didn't need to be so heavy, either. He mused and thought, all the while watching as her arms lifted to pull the brush through the wet, red strands of her hair.   
His stomach rumbled and she paused, looking over her shoulder at him. “Breakfast?”  
“Yeah.” Rolling to the other side of the bed, he got up and stretched, joints popping in the silence between them. That done, he went and collected his glasses, then his scattered clothes before walking naked out the room to see about something to eat. 

When he returned with a tray for her, she was wearing a shirt and underwear, hair neatly brushed and the bed made tidy again. She sat cross-legged on the covers, patiently waiting as she did most morning, but this was no ordinary morning. He set the tray down on the bed, near the middle.   
Jamie stared at it, confused. It appeared to have enough to two. She looked up at him, an eyebrow raised in question.   
He had also had a shower and got dressed, donning his jeans and a fresh shirt before filling the tray. He sat on the side of the bed, one leg bent and hooked under the other, one bare foot braced on the floor beside him.   
“Eat.” He reached for an orange and started to peel it, watching as she hesitated a moment, then grabbed a thick yellow banana and started to peel and eat it. She was tense in his company but tried to appear relaxed, not looking at him as she chose and consumed her breakfast, his eyes rarely leaving her face, watching her mouth, her jaw as she chewed, suddenly fascinated with everything she did.   
“I'm thinking of flying somewhere new.” He paused, letting that sink in for a few moments. “Any suggestions?” He bit into an apple, enjoying the sweet juice filling his mouth, his jaw working as he chewed.   
“Why ask me? I don't know where we've been for the past week or more, other than possibly South America. Why concern yourself with anything I might wish for?”  
He swallowed the mouthful of apple, pleased she was back to giving him sass again.  
“As a reward.”  
She nearly choked on her fruit. “For being a satisfying fuck?”  
He smirked and shrugged. “Maybe, although I got the impression you weren't entirely engaged during the experience.”  
She mentally went through a quick calming mantra before speaking. “Would you prefer I moan and praise your performance?” she looked him dead in the eye. “Oh Duncan, what a big cock you have...oooh, give it to me harder, baby!” She delivered the line in a pitch-perfect porn star breathiness, with accompanying limpid looks. Then she straightened up. “Something like that?” she queried in her normal voice.   
Duncan couldn't stop the grin from splitting his face. “Something like that.” He finished off the apple, tossing the core onto the nearly empty tray. “Maybe more along the lines of a reward for trying to be a good captive. I'm sure having a stranger rape you, not once but twice, would put a strain on anybody...”  
“You didn't rape me,” she interjected. “It's just hard to capture the mood when I have this...” She indicated the collar. “...to remind me every moment that if you chose to leave, I'd be dead in a week, from starvation.”  
“Yeah,” he purred. “That must put a dampener on things, but you see I don't know you, so I don't trust you not to try and either kill me or sabotage the plane to kill us both, if I was to set you free.”  
She sent him a tight smile. “I can see how that could be a problem for you.”  
He leaned forward to collect the now empty tray. “Not a problem for me, Jamie Campbell. I'd leave you in a heartbeat if you gave me cause.” Not waiting for a riposte, he got up and left the room with the tray.

Alone again, Jamie leaned forward until she was face first in the covers, then she let out a muffled shriek and pummelled her fists against the bedclothes, releasing the pent-up tension and expressing her frustration with the brute. Calm again, she lay there and contemplated her next move.   
If they were in South America, where could they fly to next? Much of the airspace over land was part of an overlapping network of radar fields, each plane tracked and handed off to the next air flight controller, who in turn passed them on until they landed. Each plane had a transponder so that midair collisions could be avoided and the traffic stacked for landing. Then there were the military areas with their off limit airspace, the very real possibility of a missile or being shot down always an option if a plane strayed over the wrong area. As it was, she hadn't arrived at her designated airport, so if anyone cared to query it, the plane would be put on an alert list in case it turned up somewhere else. The possibility of an aircraft being hijacked by terrorists was always in the minds of the air traffic controllers around the world.   
It was an option to fly below radar, but that used up a lot of fuel at low altitudes for a big plane, and they didn't come a lot bigger than hers, at least not in private hands. The other problem was finding an airfield with a long enough landing strip to accommodate the A-380, most non-commercial airports not up to handling a large aircraft, others not having the ground crews to do the necessary maintenance required, and a four-engined jet plane needed a shit-ton of maintenance. There were a number of decommissioned and derelict airports, long abandoned around the world, but you had to know the details because some had already been built over, while others were plowed under or simply no longer existed.   
With all that in mind, the answer to the question, where to next, was not as simple to answer as it might suggest. With that in mind, she got off the bed and walked to the doorway, chain in hand.  
“Duncan!”

Part Two – Shepherd Base – Copenhagen, Denmark.

Abigail chewed on her thumb. Somehow she had managed to lose Charles Duncan. She had thought it was an easy enough assignment, to eliminate Jamie Campbell. She had thought that Duncan, with his cold-hearted and humorless approach, would have completed the task and been back within a few days, but she'd heard nothing in a week or more. She had tracked him to New York, but the apartment he'd rented was relet and Duncan had disappeared. Jamie Campbell had disappeared as well, the most current information indicating she had gone on holiday somewhere in the Carribean, possibly Jamaica, but all leads following that up drew a blank.   
That both had disappeared at the same time seemed to suggest they might be together, and Duncan was having his fun with her, but where was anyone's guess. She had even gone so far as to bug the phones of Jamie's former team mates to try and elicit information, but they were as stumped as she was. The conversations had been interesting but not informative. 

“Dariela Kenyatta?”  
“Dariela, it's Clementine.”  
“Hi, Clem. Lovely to hear from you.”  
“Have you heard from Jamie lately?”  
“Um...no, not recently. We had a Christmas card. Clem? Is something wrong?”  
“I've...I've been trying to contact her. She was supposed to call, but she missed it. I didn't worry too much, but when I tried to call her back, it only went to voicemail, each and every time, any time of the day or night. I know she's been busy since she moved to New York, but she's always taken a call from me or called me back within twenty-four hours. I spoke to her dressmaker, but she thought Jamie had gone on holiday. Apparently, she brought the old plane, did you know?”  
“No...no I didn't know. Clem, if she's gone on holiday...”  
“I checked. She logged a flight plan to go to Jamaica, but she never arrived.”  
“Clem...I don't know what to say.”  
“Jamie is missing! Haven't you been listening?”  
“Of course I'm listening. Did the plane come down somewhere?”  
“They won't tell me, only that she didn't land where she was supposed to and hasn't been booked into any of the hotels. She's disappeared.”  
“Do you know the registration of the plane?” Dariela listened and wrote down the number. “Clem, I'm going to get in touch with some people and see what I can find out. Can I call you back?”  
“Of course. Whatever time, night or day.”  
“Okay, Clem. Try not to worry, I'll talk to you again soon.”  
“Thank you, Dariela. Anything you can find out....”  
“I'll call you, I promise.”

Abigail had listened to the taped phone call repeatedly but couldn't detect that the girl was making up her concerns, or that Dariela was anything other than genuinely surprised to hear about Jamie Campbell's disappearance. If, as Abigail suspected, Duncan had found a way to get on the plane, he could have easily hijacked it and flown to a different destination. The question then became where?

Part Three – Masset Airport, Graham Island, British Columbia, Canada.

Jamie lay in bed, staring across at the window, her thoughts all centered on the infuriating oaf that currently controlled her life. Her fingers wandered up to fidget with the edge of her new collar, the soft leather a welcome change from the hard and heavy metal one she'd worn up until the day before. Duncan had rejected each and every one of her suggestions for their next destination, eventually giving up a name she didn't even recognize, in a place she'd never heard of. The airport, as such, was a regional fly speck, but because they catered for any and all sorts of high rollers holidaying on the island it was well maintained, offered adequate services and was long enough for their plane to land on, taxi and turn around, despite the wings hanging over the edges of the runway. They were now parked up on a hardstanding, after an eight-hour flight from Mexico, connected to power and cleared to stay indefinitely, or at least as long as they paid the ground fee.   
Duncan, anticipating having to deal with authorities, tidied himself up, even went so far as to shave, appearing so much like the Mitch of old it broke her heart all over again when she saw him. Not trusting her to behave, he bound and gagged her, hands behind her back, just until he returned from dealing with the paperwork and organizing the ground services they'd need. The plane, when all said and done, was really not much more than a very expensive and well-equipped campervan, with every modern convenience. It just needed a shit ton more space than your average RV to park up.   
When he'd returned from satisfying the air traffic controller, and local PD that they were rich eccentrics come to see the wonders of the area, he came straight to her and released her. She had wanted to scream at him and attack him, but sanity won out and her reward for her patience was having the heavy chain and metal collar exchanged with a soft leather and lighter chain replacement. It was an improvement, but only incrementally. She was still reliant on him for everything and it irked her, incessantly. Even worse, he wasn't above drugging her to achieve his own ends. The soup he'd brought her knocked her out just long enough for him to use bolt cutters on the old padlock and chain, as well as the collar before replacing them both, while she remained oblivious until she awoke, woolly-headed and discovered what he'd done.   
He'd not returned that night and her breakfast was waiting for her when she woke the next morning. The tray still sat there hours later and she wondered if he'd gone off on a sightseeing trip, it had been so long since she'd seen him. There was little to view out of the bedroom window, just the scrubby grass bordering the runway, a road in the distance and an endless expanse of pine trees. After assessing that disheartening vista, she went back to bed. Sometime later she heard noises and assumed he'd returned from his trip, his boots ringing on the metal floors, coming closer until she knew he was standing in the doorway. She lay with her back to him, not moving. At length, he approached the bed, kicked off his boots, and sat down on the mattress, his back against the headboard.   
They remained like that, not speaking, for several minutes.  
“I've got you something.”  
Taking her time, she shifted against the sheets and turned onto her back, drawing her knees up and tenting the covers.   
“What's it like, outside?”  
“Cold. Damp. Lots of trees.” He paused. “Want to know what I got you?”  
Letting out a sigh, she levered herself upright and shuffled back so she was against the headboard like him, the covers drawn up to her waist. She turned her head to look at him, her heart twisting as she took in his clean-shaven face and ragged, shorter haircut, brushed back off his face. Without the beard, she could easily trace the lines of his mouth, the deeper lines that bracketed them and the dimple in his chin. He smelt of cold air and spicy cologne, not one that Mitch had ever worn.   
“You smell nice.”  
He raised an eyebrow, not sure how to deal with this melancholy version of the woman he was slowly coming to know. “You okay?”  
She smiled, a mere movement of her lips. “I'm fine. What did you get me?”  
He reached for her hand to pull it forward, then dropped something into it. It was large and spilled over her fingers. Jamie grasped the beads and held it up.   
“Oh, my God. This is beautiful.”  
“Amethyst, all of it.”  
Jamie held it against her chest, the three strands of graded purple beads differing in color from very light lavender to deepest purple, the pendant suspended from the string, a large chunk of amethyst crystal, shaped into a four-sided, finger-long piece, very light at the top and deep purple at the tip. Jamie looked up at Duncan in disbelief.   
“Why?”  
He shrugged. “Liked the color.”  
She made to give it back. “I can't take this.”  
“Take it or throw it away, I don't care which.” He went to get off the bed, scowling at her rejection of his spur of the moment gift.  
Jamie grabbed his arm to hold him back. “I'm sorry, it's a beautiful gift. Thank you.” To repair the breach, she got on her knees and held out the necklace. “Can you do it up for me?” She shuffled around and lifted her hair for him to do up the clasp.   
He hesitated a moment, the swung the necklace around her neck, doing up the silver clasp at the base of her neck, just below the leather collar, his fingers drifting over the skin above the neckline of her shirt. Jamie let her hair drop back into place and turned around to show off the jewellery. He reached over and started to unbutton her shirt, pushing it off her shoulders, so that she sat topless on the bed, the amethyst necklace now showcased against her skin, the pendant between her breast. He reached out and moved the strands of purple beads until they sat flat.  
“That's how I pictured it would look, on you,” he murmured, reaching out a finger to stroke over the curving fullness of her breast, the nipple reacting to the cooler air, swelling to a peak.   
Jamie remained still, her chest rising and falling with her breathing, her hands resting on her thighs, waiting for his next move.   
“Kiss me,” he ordered his growl barely above a whisper. She bowed her head and melded her mouth to his, leaning forward to press against his lips, dipping her tongue between them to touch his and entice it to join in. Their mouths were their only point of contact, the pendant swinging freely between them, Jamie all but naked but for the amethysts and her panties, Duncan fully dressed except for his boots.   
To ease the awkward angle, she lifted her leg over and sat in his lap, knees either side of his hips. He ran his hands up and down her back, warm palms over cool flesh, his fingers dancing over her spine before spreading out to stroke and hold her. He sat up straighter, her arms looping about his neck, bringing her flush against his shirt covered chest, the pendant now crushed between them. His hands wandered down to burrow under the edge of her underwear, fondling the warm flesh and tracing their shape, pressing her hard up against his jeans covered crotch. He freed a hand to reach down and unzip his pants, Jamie rising up and moving back a little to allow him more space to free his cock. That done he reached between her legs to push the fabric to one side and position himself at her entrance. She lowered herself slowly, taking his flesh into hers, reaching up to remove his glasses at the same time, never breaking eye contact until she was seated fully on him, her eyes closing for a moment before opening to hold his dark gaze while she rose and fell, impaling herself on his hardness. Her mouth found his again, lips and teeth clashing as the pace picked up, breathing becoming hectic as flesh heated and need overcame rhythm. He came, shuddering around her, her body squeezing his hard flesh repeatedly, milking him even as he expelled himself inside her, his hands clutching her convulsively, eyes tight shut, riding out the wave of pleasure that he was helpless to prevent. Slowly she rose up a little bit, then sank down, taking all of him and making him groan. She sat quiescent, straddling him, waiting for him to breath normally and his heart to slow down. When she felt him soften, she lifted herself off and rearranged her underwear to catch the moistness leaking out. He took a moment to stuff himself back into his jeans and do up the zip, his face flushed, dark eyes gleaming.   
“Want to see outside?”  
She looked up sharply. “What?”  
He turned his head. “Do.You.Want.To.See.Outside?”  
“You'll let me off the plane?”  
“In the truck, suitable restrained, but yes, off the plane.”  
She chewed her lip. “Yes, I want to go outside, even in the truck.”  
He gave her a wry smile. “Then I'd better get you something more than just a necklace to wear.”

Jamie stared out the window at the windswept landscape around them. In the distance, she could see a range of mountains, their tops snowcapped, but where they were, in the park around the township of Masset, it was mostly flat and tree covered. The main business of the settlement was tourism, with lots of lodges, from luxury to budget, located in the town and surrounding areas. They had shops and businesses, a hospital and everything needed to cater to their clientele. Everything else was left to nature to provide the environment to play in. There was walking, hiking, canoeing, game fishing, bird watching, conservation tourism or just admiring the beauty of the wild habitats. He drove the truck out of town and down a dirt road that ended at a beach. There was no one in sight, no buildings or evidence of people at all, just a wild expanse of ocean and sky bordered by a rocky and timber strewn beach.   
Jamie stared through the windscreen at the untouched wilderness.  
“Wow.”  
Duncan undid his seatbelt and made to get out, Jamie looking at him in surprise. He, in turn, stared back, cocking an eyebrow. “You just going to sit there?”  
She didn't need further encouragement and quickly jumped out of the truck, the cool wind coming off the sea blasting her with smells of ozone, seaweed, and life. For a wonderful moment she just stood there and sucked the air into her lungs, then she was off running, jumping over the small apron of tussock, onto the grey, sandy beach swept clean by the recent high tide. Once on the flat sand, she twirled around, arms out, boots kicking up gouts of sand into the air. It was intoxicating.  
Duncan stood back and let her go, bemused at her running and jumping, like a kid over the beach, the wind whipping her hair around her head, her scarf streaming out behind her. He had made her dress for the cold, despite the relatively warm conditions by local standards, but she was used to the warmth of the plane and needed more layers to prevent freezing once truly outside. The leather collar was hidden under the high neck of the thermal she wore under the check shirt, and he hadn't needed to tell her that running away was a futile gesture that would reap consequences that she wouldn't enjoy. He also wasn't foolish enough not to realize that escape would be constantly on her busy brain, so he carried a handful of zip ties and a hand-held dart gun, just in case. 

Jamie had reached the water's edge where lazy wavelets sloshed and advanced, then drew back with a hiss, before repeating endlessly, the sound like a pulse offset by the cry of gulls and the wind in her ears. She danced back when a bigger wave threatened to swamp her boots, glad that Duncan had made her rug up, the wind trying to find cracks in her clothing, her face already cold to the touch. The beach bordered a rugged bay, the water stretching dark and deep across to tree covered shores in the distance, a boat, white and bright, chugged across the water taking passengers to places of interest, or just to fish. She twisted to look over her shoulder and saw that Duncan had remained at the truck, standing outside, just watching her but making no move to follow.   
His gift to her of the amethyst necklace had shaken her. It was such a personal thing to do, buying jewellery for someone. If she was unkind, she could take offense at it being payment for services rendered, but she preferred to think of it as a small sign of his mellowing towards her. His comment that he'd pictured her naked wearing the beads had been an interesting slip on his part. She took it as an indication that her campaign for freeing herself and saving her life was possibly working. She had to change his mind and make herself worth something to him. He had told her he was tasked with disposing of her, which could mean killing her, but also mean just getting her out of the way. Certainly, he had achieved the second option by bringing her to Canada. No one, out of all the people she knew, would think to look for her here.   
The wind brought a smattering of raindrops with it and she turned to run back up the beach, pulling up the hood of her parka to keep her hair dry. She arrived at the truck breathless and pink-cheeked, grinning at Duncan, who observed her antics without reaction. They both got back in the truck just as a squawl sent a heavy shower sweeping over the sand where she'd been standing only moments before.   
“That was marvelous,” she enthused, her eyes sparkling. “What else is there to see?”

Duncan drove past the airport along Towhill Road, taking them out to the sandspit, the track running close to the water all the way until it curved inland to climb the hill that was its namesake. They stopped frequently to allow Jamie to explore the beach, admiring the huge salt-scoured tree trunks and natural, wind-bowed landscape, a world apart from New York and civilization. The gusts were too cold to stay outside for long, but the few chances she got were invigorating and thoroughly enjoyable. Duncan didn't make any comments or cast aspersion on her enjoyment and she picked up several souvenirs along the way, colorful pebbles and strangely twisted bits of driftwood to remind her of the excursion in the future.   
The day trip around the Masset area proved several things to Jamie. First, that there was little point in running away when there was nowhere to run to. There was no big city to hide in, no huge population to lose herself amongst, and even if she approached the local state trooper, Duncan would have a plausible excuse for her behavior. If she tried to disappear into the local forests she'd suffer from exposure at these temperatures before she was able to make any sort of escape, and moreover, the landscape and forests were so dense and unchanging, she'd be lost within a few feet. Secondly, she had to ask herself if she really wanted to escape. As strange as that revelation was to her, she seriously had to access the merits of remaining Duncan's nominal prisoner and working on him to change his opinion of her or escaping and confirming his worst expectations and suffering the consequences. She scolded herself for being a coward, but she preferred to remain his pampered captive, than to become his reviled and abused prisoner. Plus, this was Mitch. Yes, he went by the name Duncan, and didn't have any memory of her beyond the current, but it was his body making love to her, and no, it wasn't delusional to call it that. He might not have a care for her pleasure, but he wasn't rough with her, he didn't beat her or attack her, so she had to believe that her campaign to gain her freedom was working. Only time would tell. 

Their days spent on Graham Island took on a regular pattern, incorporating day trips out to visit the varied coastline, local features or just to drive through the expanse of wilderness. Before breakfast, he would interrupt her morning exercises with a leisurely fuck, becoming more adventurous and trying out a number of positions, then they'd eat together. Never a great conversationalist, Duncan wouldn't always tell her what he was going to do, or even if she was invited along, but then he'd push the breakfast tray away, and jump her bones again. Late morning would see them set out on some drive somewhere, Duncan having relented, sometimes stopping to pick up food from a local bakery down the road, to take with them. When she was left in the truck, he still zip-tied her hands and the chain was affixed to the back of the seat where she couldn't reach it. It irked her but she accepted it as a temporary nuisance, sure that her influence over him was working more and more each day. When they returned to the plane, on the days they went out, he sometimes barely waited for them to get out of the truck before he was pushing her to bend over, drop her jeans and hold on to the handrail at the edge of the stairs, while he took his pleasure of her, the loading bay echoing with his cries and moans, and slap of flesh upon flesh.   
The incidents of him fucking her 'off the chain' were becoming more frequent, his carnal appetites overwhelming his previous, almost paranoid caution. By now Jamie had become like Pavlov's dogs, her body responding to his presence, anticipating the sex and ready for him all the time. It would have been embarrassing if she didn't take a perverse delight in making him lose control, loving the way he wouldn't wait but just bent her over a piece of furniture, or pick her up and sit her on a benchtop for a fuck whenever the urge took him. And it was no longer just one-sided. Often she found herself already excited by the anticipation, to the point that it didn't take much to bring her to orgasm, Jamie learning a whole new side to her sexual nature, one that she'd never suspected she'd enjoy. The game of who dominated who in their warped relationship was becoming blurred, the question of who was using who no longer up for debate. It was becoming no longer simply when she was going to have the chance to escape, but did she really want to escape, given the opportunity?   
Duncan was also having a hard time finding where the line was drawn, if the line even existed any more between them. He sometimes had to grit his teeth and physically restrain himself from touching her, those moment become fewer and fewer as he gave in to his hunger for her body, wanting nothing more than to bury his flesh in hers as many times as he could, in as many places and positions as he could think of. He likened it to an addiction, his cock always semi-erect, hardening instantly when he was close to her, which lately had been more and more often. His senses were inflamed by the sight and smell of her, his hands itching to touch and smooth over her flesh, his mouth salivating at the thought of taking possession of her mouth, her skin while he plunged between her legs. She was becoming all he thought about, all he wanted, the only one to slake the fire slumbering inside him, goading him on to take what he wanted, use her without restraint, and experience the heady bliss of release each time they came together.   
By the end of the third week, they gave up all pretense of wanting to do anything other than be together, preferably naked, fucking like bunnies. 

The morning she awoke and he was still beside her was when everything changed. 

It had been dark when she first awoke and became aware that Duncan hadn't left her, as was his usual behavior. Instead, he was laying beside her, face in the pillows, one arm laying over her possessively. His arm was a welcome heavy warmth just under her breasts, his fingers lax against her ribs. The rest of him was pressed against her side, his face not far from her shoulder, as if he'd meant to kiss it, but fell asleep mid-thought. She had been surprised, but not unpleasantly so when he'd joined her late in the evening, pulling the book out of her hand and kissing her deeply, their subsequent lovemaking as torrid as ever and mutually satisfying. She expected him to get up and leave her, as he'd always done to date, but he'd stayed, apparently not as tired out as she was. Unable to stay awake, she turned on her side and quickly dozed off, so it was a surprise at this early hour to find him still there. The second surprise was to find the chain not attached to the collar. Her fingers searched the leather but the chain wasn't there. Sometime, when she was asleep, he'd cut it off, even the ring where it attached to the leather. It was a momentous move forward, and she felt like screaming 'yes' to the heavens, but refrained, deciding to play the game ahead a little before celebrating her success. Maybe he was just testing her, to see if she'd run or do something to take revenge on him, call for help or any number of other possibilities. Instead, she pulled the covers up, over his arm and her torso, and closed her eyes. If this test was to become a permanent reality, she had to prove herself trustworthy. Considering she had no desire to do anything to him of a harmful nature, probably should have sent out alarm bells, but who was there to judge her? Only a fool questions why the cat is done playing with the mouse and lets it go, certainly not the mouse.

He woke with a slight jerk, confused as to why the light was coming in from the wrong side of the plane, then he remembered and cracked open an eye. She was still there, her body curled into his, his arm circling her torso in a loose hold, nothing she couldn't have got out of if she wanted to. But she hadn't, she'd stayed and not tried to escape, or kill him or even harm him, let alone call for help or leave the plane. He'd taken off the chain to test himself, as well as her. He couldn't explain it, but he wanted to trust her, wanted to be able to leave the chain and collar off and know she wasn't going to run at the first opportunity, or shoot him, another consideration.   
His feelings and motivations were so different from before he met her. He no longer wanted to deliberately hurt her, or cause her pain and as for killing her on Abigail's orders? That had slithered off the table the first time they made love, and that was another thing. He'd regarded what they did together as just sex – for about the first week maybe. After that, it could only be considered something softer, more responsive and emotional, a connection that went deeper than mere sex. The way his body reacted, and hers for that matter, their mutual enthusiasm for experimentation and creativity just blew his mind. He didn't have any way of measuring his, or her performance by past experience, so had to rely on how it felt to him, the only phrase that came to mind was – completely fucking wonderful. Would it be the same with someone else? He couldn't know. Did he even want to find out with anyone else? No fucking way. She ignited a fire within him that seemed unquenchable, his cock responding just to thinking about her, let alone seeing and touching her. Jamie Campbell was in his blood, and he knew, without a doubt, that he was in hers. But still, a niggle of doubt persisted, so he took off the chain. If it was all a game, a sham to lull him into doing just what he'd done, she'd show her hand if given the opportunity, and he was going to do just that. Alternatively, if his instincts were right, if there was something more than just fucking to get free, then he'd know that too in a very short time. Time would ultimately reveal the truth. 

He was gone when she awoke a second time, the angle of the sun telling her it was well into the morning. She touched the sheet where his body had been, but it was cold, he'd been gone awhile. She felt around her neck but the chain was still gone, despite the collar remaining. Cautiously, she got out of bed and padded into the bathroom, taking her time in the shower, drying her hair and brushing her teeth. That all done, she got dressed in her usual garb of one of his long-sleeved shirts, and a pair of panties. Tentatively she left the bedroom, slowly traversing the hallway towards the upstairs lounge and small kitchen. She paused in the doorway. Duncan was dressed and filling the coffee machine, turning to look at her a minute later.   
“Hi. Um...you took off the chain.” Jamie decided to address the elephant in the room head-on.   
“I did.” He turned his back on the kitchen band and faced her fully. “Can I trust you, Jamie?”  
She gave a nervous laugh. “I can't tell you how surprised I am, in myself, when I say – yes, you can.”  
“Are you going to run away from me?”  
“No.”  
“Attempt to kill me?”  
“No!, how can you think I'd do that.”  
He shrugged. “I told you I was sent to kill you when we first met. I...I hurt you.”  
“You did. Would you do that again?”  
“Now? No.”  
“Then you answer your own question. Trust goes both ways. If you trust me not to make a break for it, or try and shoot you, then I have to trust you won't abuse me or do anything to endanger my life.”  
He frowned. “Are you just saying that so I won't put the chain back on?”  
She shook her head. “No. But I don't know how to convince you of that.”  
“Come here.”  
She walked towards him, her head high and chin tilted. She stood in front of him, her eyes roving over his features, a small smile playing about her lips.   
“I want to trust you...” he growled softly, leaning down to cover her lips with his, the kiss soft and tender. She moved closer, pressing herself against him, her hands stroking down his arms until they reached his hands, Jamie lacing her fingers with his, him gripping hers tightly. “...you have no idea how much I want to trust you,” he muttered between kisses. One kiss morphed into the next, the coffee forgotten, breakfast a distant memory while they made out. At some point he lifted her onto the countertop, fitting against her body between her thighs, her legs hooked over his hips. Jamie was threading her fingers through his hair, her tongue tangling with his, while his arms surrounded her, hands pressed against her back, holding her close. The coffee machine started to splutter behind them, Duncan pulling back from her.   
“Breakfast?”  
“Thought I was already having it,” she smirked. The subtleties of the use of smiles in a relationship was still a learning curve for him, but he managed a closed mouth smile before turning his back and pouring them both a mug of coffee. Jamie hopped down off the counter and took her mug to one of the lounge chairs. Absently, she lifted the tv remote and thumbed it on. Duncan was still behind the counter, fixing something for them to eat. The tv needed retuning for the area they were in, so she got it going, sipping her coffee while she waited. When it was done she started to shuttle through the channels. She settled on a news channel, just as Ducan approached with a plate, which she took. It had been so long since she'd seen any recent news it came as a shock to see images of creatures she thought were still penned up on Pangaea flash up on the screen. She turned up the volume.   
“They have been reported numerous times over the last month, mostly on the west coast of the United States, as far north as the Canadian border area down to Mexico. No one can explain either what they are, or how they came to be there, but they are proving difficult to capture and harder to kill. In the meantime, the death toll is rising, with several small rural communities evacuated in the face of the advancing menace....”  
Jamie gaped at the screen. “I can't believe it. I thought...how the hell did they get to the mainland?”  
Duncan remained silent. He knew exactly why and how the creatures got there, but that knowledge was unlikely to improve the fragile truce he was nurturing with the woman beside him.   
Jamie turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing. “Did anyone ever tell you what caused all those wounds all over your body?”  
Duncan shrugged, still gazing up at the screen, the news moving on to another topic, the sound muted. “They were healed. I supposed they were from a car accident or something.”  
Jamie inwardly cursed the timing of the news report. They had just reached a point of moving forward, of her being freed of both collar and chain, and now she had to dredge up the past, bring up Mitch, and explain how he supposedly died. Would it benefit either of them? He had already shown he was touchy about his past, and certainly not happy to bring up the person he was before. Would doing so now set them back? Was she prepared to allow that?  
“I was just wondering,” she told him, swallowing her misgivings. She turned the sound back on and listened as the new anchor went through a number of news reports, before returning to the headliner, expanding on the story by bringing up a decision by the government to implement a project called The Barrier. Apparently, the west coast was to be abandoned and shut off behind a proposed wall that would take a number of years to complete but would eventually stretch from the far north, beyond the Canadian border, to the far south, finishing somewhere on the west coast of Mexico. It was seen as the easiest solution to a growing crisis. Evacuations had already been started, and work initiated at both ends of the wall. Not surprisingly, riots and protests were still going on in the Capitol, and in all the cities to be affected on the west coast itself. Nobody had an explanation as to how or why these creatures were appearing now, but several had made the connection between Jamie's second book, and her description of the Razorbacks on Pangaea. Questions were now being asked about that connection, and the author being sought for answers, but Jamie Campbell was currently listed as missing further fueling speculation. The reporter ended with the ominous line - “The investigation is ongoing.”  
She switched off the television, wishing she never turned in on in the first place. Her coffee was cold and she put it down. “They think I have something to do with...that.” She turned to face the silent man next to her. “But I don't. Do you?”  
He deliberately misunderstood her. “No, I don't think you had anything to do with all that.”  
Jamie shook her head. “That's not what I meant. I last saw you in a control room of the Shepherd base on Pangaea. It was presumed you died there, but when we went back to recover your body you were not there, or anywhere. We thought your body had been dragged away by...by those things, those wolf creatures, but you weren't, obviously. So who did take you away?”  
He downed the last of his coffee. “I don't know. I woke up after having surgery on my head.”  
“Surely you must have had someone there to tell you why you were in hospital? Someone had to give you the name Charles Duncan?”  
He got up. “Don't pursue this, Jamie. If you do, then I will be forced to complete my original mission, and I really, really don't want to have to do that.” He walked passed her to the kitchen. Jamie stared blindly at the carpet. He knew, was possibly involved with it somehow, and the knowledge put her back in the cross-hairs again. Could she turn her back on what was happening out there?  
Their relationship was so fragile, so tender in its newness. He had all but confirmed that whoever had sent him to kill her, was at the center of everything to do with the hybrids, probably one of the top level Shepherds she'd been hunting, which made Duncan a Shepherd too, not just a cover or ghost. She felt sick. If you'd asked her at the start if Duncan was capable of killing her, she would have said yes, without hesitation. Ask her the same now, she wasn't so sure, but if the facts were right, and he was a Shepherd and had a hand in what was happening right now, wasn't it her duty to do everything to bring him to justice? But no, Duncan had been, no was Mitch Morgan who had lost his memory after being mauled, his actions since then dictated by someone else feeding him false information, possibly making him do things that Mitch would never have done, if he'd been in his right mind. So where did that leave her? What, really, were her choices?

Duncan watched her as she sat, staring blindly at the blank tv screen. What happened next, between them, would determine her fate. If she chose to persist with her pursuit of the remaining Shepherds, then she was a dead woman walking. She had already connected the dots and placed him square in the center of what was causing the crisis on the west coast, even though that had been Abigail's pet project, started before he was brought back to life. He felt like throwing his coffee mug at the television screen and smashing it to pieces. They had been so close.   
They wouldn't be the only ones seeing the news about the evacuation of the west coast, the island they were on right now would be looking to eventually ship all the occupants further east. Without imports from the mainland, the resources the human population relied upon would be quickly used up, giving them no choice but to leave.   
They would have to leave soon, too. The matter up for discussion was whether Jamie Campbell left the island alive or dead. He looked up and stared at her, her bright eyes meeting his steadily. It appeared she'd made a decision.


	6. Rock  And A Hard Place

Part One – The Plane – Graham Island, BC.

“How loyal are you to the Shepherds?” Jamie asked.  
Her question was not what he was expecting her to say. She carried on, not waiting for an answer.  
“I want you to consider something. The man you were before was a man of science, a veterinary pathologist who enjoyed puzzles. He wanted to answer the riddles of why animals were sick or had died, not only so it wouldn't happen again, but because that was what he lived for. Answers. I don't have any idea of what you've been doing for the Shepherds, but I imagine they have been making use of you, to create something that probably relates to the hybrids in some way. I don't know what that would be, but I know the man you used to be, and I don't think that the two of you are that different.” She had stood up at the start of her speech, now she moved towards him. “I don't know what we have between us, but I do now that I don't want it to end. You have to understand, I can't stand by and do nothing, I just can't. But you were given a mission, you were told to be an assassin, to kill me. That's just not who you are, not then and I hope, not now.” She was right in front of him, her brow pleated with the earnestness of her plea to him. “I don't know what you're thinking, or how strong the hold is on you, but I hope that it isn't as strong as what we have together.” She reached up to press her lips to his, testing his response. His mind was a morass of contradictions, not least the answer to her original question – how loyal was he to the Shepherds, more specifically, how loyal was he to Abigail. Her lips were warm and alive and he couldn't think.   
“Stop it!” he grabbed her upper arms and held her away. “I need to give you an answer, but I can't when...go back to the chair...please.”  
Jamie nodded and turned around to go back to where she'd been, tucking her feet up under her thighs and watching him.   
Duncan bent his head and stared at his feet. Was this the time to tell her what he knew? Was this what all this had been leading to? He had somehow blanked out all thought of the time before he'd woken up to see Abigail staring down at him. But what had his life been before? Who had he been before she named him Charles Duncan. Jamie knew. She had told him his true name – Mitch Morgan, apparently a man involved in the sciences, a skill he, Duncan, had used to create a drug to allow, potentially, a human mind to connect with animals. He, Duncan, had been using Mitch's intellect and knowledge learned to create and modify the beacons, and Mitch's past experience with animals had allowed him, Duncan, to create an enriched environment for Abendegos. They were the same man, but somehow split into two. Did the operation on his head have something to do with that? Had he been simply suffering from memory loss, or something else? How loyal was he to Abigail and the Shepherds? An old adage popped into his head and repeated itself endlessly. 'A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush'. It was a childish phrase but seemed to fit his current situation unerringly. Was he prepared to give up what he had found, and currently enjoyed with Jamie Campbell, to go back to the sterile, emotionless state he'd been in before? Could he seriously kill Jamie, then just go back to the Shepherds as if it didn't affect him?   
He clutched at his head, not in pain but in complete frustration at his inability to find a path through the mess in his brain. There was only one time when he could think straight and everything made sense.   
“Come on, we need to go to bed.” He held out his hand imperiously to Jamie.   
She looked startled, but got up and reached out to grasp his hand with hers. When they reached the first bedroom, he slid the door back and pulled her inside. This had been her bedroom before he'd arrived, and apparently where he'd been sleeping when not with her. He was already unbuttoning his shirt and she went to the bed, still rumpled from the last time he'd slept in it, and knee-walked up to the pillows before turning around to face him, her fingers going to the buttons on her own shirt.   
Duncan was in a ferment, his brows drawn together in a ferocious scowl, but not because he was angry, more because he was trying to battle the hundred and one snippets of speech that posed opposing arguments as to what he should do next. With the last of his clothes discarded, he threw himself on the bed, on his back. He took off his glasses and put them on the side, then he gestured impatiently for Jamie, who threw her own clothes off the bed before straddling him. She wisely held her counsel about his strange behavior and current expression, preferring to judge him by his actions, determining that somehow he considered sex with her a way to arrive at a calmer state. As she was always up for a fuck with the man she desired above all others, it was no hardship and his body was certainly indicating he was more than willing. She settled over him, guiding him into her body, welcoming him inside her until he was buried to the balls. The tension he'd carried in his face cleared with that simple joining, his hands coming to rest on her thighs, gently stroking her skin back and forth. She moved and he moaned in appreciation when her hips flexed and drew him further into her heat. Then she lifted up a little and sank down, repeating it in a steady rhythm, her hands resting on his chest, pinching his nipples into erect bundles of sensation. She rode him deeply, somethings drawing back until he was nearly out, then ramming back down, fucking him at her leisure and driving him insane. Everything she did silenced the voices in his head, drove them away and cleared his brain of the clutter, his focus on what she was doing to his cock, how wonderful it felt, how he wanted it to last forever. But his balls had other ideas, sending tingles up his spine in readiness to spill their reward for all her hard work, his knees drawing up so he could thrust up into her, his hands bracketing her waist to hold on while he pumped his seed inside her, his brain letting off fireworks while every muscle loosened and relaxed and the marvellous woman still impaled on his cock, leaned down and kissed him.   
For the first time, he didn't pull out or push her off, he wrapped her in his arms and held her, the pair of them still joined, her body a warm blanket for his own. When he could draw breath again, he rolled them to the side, still holding her but no longer in her.   
“Fuck the Shepherds, and fuck Abigail. I'm not going back.”

Jamie stared back at him, reading his determination for herself. She had done it, she had managed to change the stubborn man's mind and won her freedom. As if he'd read her mind he reached up and ran his finger under the edge of the leather collar.   
“This has to go.” He was looking fierce again, so she leaned forward and kissed him, a useful distraction for both of them. He took control of the kiss and pushed her back into the pillows. When he pulled back, he gazed down at her.   
“That won't work every time, you know that?”  
She smiled up at him. “Worked pretty well, so far.”  
He dropped his head to her chest, defeated by her simple logic. When he raised it again, he reached behind him for the covers and pulled them over them both.   
“We need to talk,” he announced gruffly. Jamie nodded.  
“We do. Who's Abigail?”  
“She told me to dispose of you, bury you deep so you could never be found.”  
“And now?”  
“Now, we'll both be on her most wanted list, and Abigail is not a woman to be taken lightly. She's possibly the smartest person I know...”  
“Except for you,” Jamie interrupted. “If she's so clever, why did she need you to work with her?”  
Duncan looked momentarily taken aback. “Like you said before, I like solving puzzles, and they, she, had puzzles they couldn't find the answers for, so they set me on them.”  
“Did you solve them?”  
“I did. So well that the whole world will know about it very shortly.”  
Jamie bit her lip. “Is this wall they're proposing to build going to be any good at keeping the hybrids at bay?”  
He shook his head. “Complete waste of time. If the plan goes ahead, the entire world will be overrun with hybrids of all kinds, not just the wolves. There won't be a place on earth where anyone will be able to hide or avoid them.”   
“Oh, my God.” Jamie stared up at him for a moment, then buried her face in his neck and clung to him. He did the same, holding her close as the enormity of Abigail's ultimate endgame made itself clear at long last. And he had been instrumental in making it a reality. It was small consolation that his part in the scheme had been small, that Abigail could have sorted out the issues she had eventually on her own. His input had just brought the timeline closer and the rest of the world knew nothing about the armageddon about to be unleashed upon them. 

He left the bed briefly to find the plaster scissors to get the leather collar off her neck. When it was gone he mouthed and kissed the exposed flesh, silently begging her forgiveness. She granted it by asking him to make love to her, their coming together all the sweeter with her emancipation.   
Afterward, they talked some more, until he just had to know.   
“What was he like?”  
Jamie looked at him, then stroked her hand over his face. “He was and is you.”  
He screwed up his face. “I know that we are the same body, but how was he with you?”  
“Are you jealous? You have no need to be,” she chided, kissing his forehead, then his nose, finally his chin.  
He jerked his head away. “Stop that, I'm serious. You loved him...” he growled, frowning.   
Jamie sighed. “Listen to my words. I love him. Present tense, not past. And you being him...”  
She watched as he puzzled over her words. “So...what you're really  
saying...”  
“Yes.”  
“Okay.” He chewed on that for a moment. “But what was he like with you? What did he do that is different from me?”  
“Do you want his life story?”  
He wrinkled his nose. “Do I?”  
“I could just give you the facts if that would help.”  
“Yeah, start with that.”  
Jame settled herself more snugly against him, her head resting on his chest. “Well. You started out training to be a doctor of medicine, but you didn't complete a full residency. From what you said you couldn't bear to lose your humanity, which you felt you did every time you had to interact with patients who were terminal, or their relatives and their grief.”  
“So I was weak.”  
“No. You were a man of intense feeling. You couldn't shut that side of yourself off, so you switched to veterinary pathology, with a doctorate in chemistry. You were given the Presidential Award and went on to be a lecturing professor for the UCLA.”  
“So I'm weak but smart as fuck.”  
“Very smart. Before I met you, you'd been married and had a child in the mid two thousands .”  
“I have a kid?”  
“A girl called Clementine.”  
“Poor kid, I have lousy taste in names. Is she still alive?... I mean, after the animal uprising and all that?”  
“She is. She stayed with me for a few years, after you...died. Her mother and stepfather were also dead, so I became her guardian.”  
“Where is she now?”  
“She's with her grandfather, your father, in Helsinki. She must be sixteen now.”  
“You don't keep in touch?”  
“We do, but not very regularly. I've been...kinda busy lately.”  
“Hunting for me...” He looked thoughtful. “About my father...”  
“He thinks you're dead, as the rest of the world does. He's crazy smart, a cryptozoologist no less. This plane was originally his, from years ago.”  
“And my mother?”  
“I'm sorry, I don't know much. Apparently, she and your father divorced over ten years ago or more. I don't know where she is right now. ”  
“Siblings?”  
Jamie shook her head. “You never talked about your family. I think you were a little lonely.”  
“I sound pathetic. How old am I? Forty-something? A deadbeat dad, no partner, and living alone with dead animals for company.”  
“You were just waiting for an opportunity to shine. That's when I found you.”  
“Did I like you?”  
“You were a little sarcastic and acerbic, an acquired taste, you once said. But you were also sympathetic, brave, and always put yourself in front of me, to protect me whenever we were threatened. You listened, and you explained, you rarely got angry, at least with me. You saved your daughter by getting a cure for her terminal illness, and you once said I saved you by reminding you about the good in people. When I was lost in the wilderness, you never gave up trying to rescue me once you knew I was alive, and I think you truly grieved for me when you thought I'd died in the plane crash.”  
“This plane crashed?”  
Jamie smiled at his alarmed expression. “No. It was a commercial flight and we'd just found an animal not exposed to the mother cell, but we suffered a bird strike and landed off the coast of New Brunswick. I was picked up by a fisherman, while you and the others were rescued by the coast guard. Everyone thought I'd drowned and been lost. Jackson told me later that you spent those months practically living at a bar, usually drinking until you were under it.”  
“Is this all in your book?”  
She nodded. “Most of it. You should read it. Mitch features largely, although I renamed him Michael Mathews and I was Jasmine Carter in the book.”  
“And through all this, we never hooked up?”  
“No sex, but we did kiss...just the once, right before the plane crash.”  
“Well, that sucks.”  
Jamie snuggled closer. “I think you can agree we've more than made up for lost time.”  
They lay together, digesting her words, thinking about their implication and how it all fits with where they were now. His voice rumbled through his chest.  
“If I hadn't died, would we have been together?”  
Jamie sighed. “When we released the birds to spread the cure, the first thing you asked was if I'd come with you to Maine to meet Clementine. I said yes. If nothing had happened after that I think we would have collected your daughter and lived together very happily. But then the Shepherds released the modified TX gas which changed everything. You loved your daughter even more than me, not surprisingly. It was why you gave up your life, you wanted us all to be safe. We had found out that Clem needed to have a different vaccine to protect her from the cure, because it was going to react with her dormant Glazer's disease, so your sacrifice allowed us the time to escape and get to her in time. The poor girl had lost her mother, and now I had to tell her you were gone too. That's how she came to live with me.”  
“I died to save you...”  
“And Clementine. You were a hero.”  
“Damn...never thought I had the guts.”  
Jamie ran a finger over one of the larger scars. “These are proof that you were. Despite you being rescued, you still suffered from a hybrid attack...there was so much blood, it's a wonder you survived at all.”   
“I guess that's where Abigail and the Shepherds take over the story. Without them, I wouldn't have recovered. But I have a puzzle for you. When would you say this all happened, me dying and all that?”  
“Um...around the summer of two thousand and sixteen?”  
“But I didn't start working for Abigail until autumn of two thousand and seventeen, a month after waking up in the hospital for the first time. Where the hell was I for a year?”

Part Two – Kenyatta residence, Ann Arbor.

“Hello, Dariela speaking.”  
“Dariela, it's Jamie.”  
“Jeezus. Where have you been? We've been trying to find you...”  
“Dariela, who's we?”  
“Clementine called me weeks ago to say you'd disappeared. You were supposed to go to Jamaica...”  
“Yeah. Slight change of plans. Look, I'm sorry I worried you all...”  
“You really need to ring Clementine, she's so worried!”  
“Yeah, I'll do that. Dariela, I called you because I might need you to do something for me.”  
“Okay. What would that something be?”  
“Have someone stay for a short while.”  
“Do we know this someone?”  
“Years ago. But that's beside the point, I have to do stuff and he can't be seen in public, so....”  
“It's fine, Jamie. You can drop your stray with us and we'll keep him safe.”  
“Thank you, Dariela, you'll understand when you meet him. I'll call and let you know when.”  
“Look forward to it. Take care, Jamie.”

“Who was that?” Abe called from the kitchen. Dariela put down the phone and hurried to where her husband was stirring something on the stove top.   
“That was Jamie...”  
“Jamie?!”  
“Yeah. Seems she's not dead after all.”  
“You told her about Clem?”  
“Of course. She asked for a favor.”  
Abe looked at his wife. “What sort of favor?”  
“To have someone stay with us for awhile.”  
Abe shrugged. “That's not much to ask.”  
Dariela looked thoughtful. “She said we knew him from years ago.”  
“Was she talking about Logan?”  
His wife shook her head. “I don't think so.”  
Abe turned back to the pot he was stirring. “We'll find out in good time.”  
“Guess we will. I wonder where she's been all this time, and who was with her?”

Part Three – The Plane, JFK Airport, New York.

Jamie had been in touch with her society friend who owned the hanger, the friend happy for her to use it for another month, having no plans herself to come back to New York as she was now partying hard on the Riviera with plans to stay there awhile. Jamie and Duncan had spent the roughly six-hour flight back to New York planning their next move. It was likely that Abigail would be watching for any sign of Duncan or Jamie's appearance so it was decided that Jamie would fly back to New York as if she had been away on holiday and had no contact with Duncan. He would stay on the plane, for the short term, and keep out of sight, in the meantime working on putting down everything he could remember about where the beacons were sited and each nest located, how many and in what city. The larger plan was to bring down the last of the Shepherds, including Abigail and stop the implementation of the hybrid release around the world. To do that Abigail had to believe that Duncan was nowhere to be found. To achieve that, he had swapped roles with Jamie, where he was now confined to the plane and she was free to go out and about, only he didn't have to wear a collar.   
Jamie made a low-key return to the social scene, hinting that she had another book on the back burner and would be spending time working on that, rather than attending all the premiers and parties. She spent time with her financial manager assessing her situation, the markets still unaffected by the looming hybrid crisis, buoyed by the barrier being built and the transfer of funds and shares coming from those displaced from the west coast. Despite the ongoing research into finding a cure for sterility, progress was slow, but that didn't stop people investing in their future, such as it was, which meant Jamie's investments were still holding their value.   
In fact, Jamie was spending some of her leisure time putting together the outline of a story, one about her and Duncan, but it would have to wait until the Shepherds were no longer a threat before it could be published. In the meantime she made sure those that needed to, knew she was back and as healthy as ever, no superficial evidence that she had encountered Charles Duncan in her behavior or conversations with anyone, on the basis Abigail could have had her phone tapped.  
If Abigail was still listening, she would have overheard Jamie's call to Dariela, and her one to Clementine, the girl very relieved that Jamie was back and in one piece. Jamie accepted the scolding from Clem and Max for not telling them about her change of plans, promising to keep them in the loop in the future. She gave no excuse for going off the grid, only that she needed to get away for a few weeks and take a complete rest-cure from her recent hectic social circus. Her excuse was accepted without anyone suspecting otherwise, her behavior no different from all the other celebs who vanished to their secret hideaways for a bit of peace.   
When she returned to the plane, she was back in his arms, away from the paparazzi, the autograph hounds and enthusiastic fans, protected from those too rude to understand privacy or boundaries, safe within the walls of her plane with the man she loved. 

Duncan was not irked by having to stay onboard Jamie's flying hotel. He had everything and more that he could ever want to pursue whatever he wanted to, in regards science or research. He had access to the internet and other, darker, sources of information via her computer. He also had the wealth of information that Jamie had accumulated over the years to use, including all the information about his alter ego's investigation into the animal mutation crisis, plus the associated sidelines that had spawned in regards human cross infection. It was akin to finding a whole chunk of your life you never knew about, the information filling in gaps you never knew were missing in your understanding of the world and about yourself.   
He also read her books, the stories giving him a real picture of the man Mitch Morgan had been, and how the people around him regarded him too. Jamie's love for the man shone through, and his love for her when you added up all the looks and touches, his ultimate self-sacrifice cementing his hero status. Having no memory of it all, it was like an out of body experience, but also answered a lot of the questions he had about Jamie herself. He didn't doubt her anymore when she said she loved him – Duncan, despite all he'd done to her. He was Mitch Morgan, and Mitch Morgan had loved Jamie Campbell. Did Charles Duncan love Jamie Campbell? That would be affirmative. He might not be fully Mitch Morgan of before, but he was no longer the Charles Duncan of old, either. He was something new, something forged out of both, a hybrid. Which was kinda ironic.

Part Four – Shepherd Base, New York. 

She was back, the bitch, and still no sign of Duncan. Abigail watched the footage of Jamie Campbell from CCTV cameras she'd tapped into from around the airport, in the hopes that Duncan would fly in some time and come back to her, Abigail. But so far, the only person visible was the target, swanning around without a care in the world, alive and disgustingly healthy when she should have been dead. Jamie showed no indication that she'd encountered Duncan in her travels abroad, and there was nothing in her behavior or few phone calls to even hint that she had spoken or had any contact with the wretched man at all. In which case, where the fuck was Charles Duncan? Had the bitch on the screen killed him? Unlikely. Had he met with an accident? They do happen, but Abigail had been keeping a watch on recent John Doe's admitted to hospital, and there'd been nothing. If Duncan had been recognized as Mitch Morgan, a very remote possibility, it would have been front page news, but again, nothing had been mentioned. Had he somehow run afoul of some bad people and been disposed of and simply not resurfaced as a corpse yet? It was possible, but the man hadn't been on the ground long enough to make any serious enemies, for fuck's sake. Could he have suddenly, spontaneously recovered his lost memory of being Mitch Morgan? It was a long shot, but if he had, he would have sought out his old friends, and his daughter for sure, but there's been nothing in any of the communication between the daughter and the Kenyatta's to indicate something that momentous. If you ruled out all of the above, then that left only one explanation. Charles Duncan had simply disappeared. He'd decided he didn't want to be an assassin and taken himself off somewhere. It was inexplicable but there was no other explanation. Until such time as he resurfaced and made contact, there was nothing she could do.   
She stared at the screen capture of Jamie Campbell and ground her teeth in frustration. With the wretched woman back from her holiday to God know's where, she would be back to hunting for the last remaining Shepherds. Apart from the most recent recruits, and they were mostly low-grade grunts, the only remaining senior Shepherds were the Falcon aka Leanne Duchovny, CEO of Reiden Global, Greg Mansdale and herself, Abigail Westbrook. The Campbell woman knew about Mansdale, having met him in association with General Davis, but had yet to find him. She also had leads on the Falcon but had yet to join the dots to lead her to Leanne. The one person Jamie didn't know about was her, Abigail, nor did she know that Abigail was the adopted daughter of Robert Oz, making her sister to Jackson Oz, who was similarly unaware of her existence. She knew all of them after planting spy cameras on the plane, which is when she learned about her father's betrayal and later how he died saving his son, Jackson. The cameras had been found and removed when the plane was sold and redecorated, otherwise she could have used them to spy on the Campbell woman all this time. Stumped at every turn, she stared at the woman's image and thought up several horrible and diabolical ways to end her life, but still make it look like an accident. Abigail hated to be thwarted or have a good plan be bungled. She would miss Charles Duncan, not because she had any further need of him, it just gave her a perverse delight knowing that she had erased Mitch Morgan from existence, and Charles Duncan was the living proof of her cunning and brilliance when it came to taking revenge. It would have been more satisfying if she'd had her brother to torment and mess with, but he'd been driven underground by the stupid legal system and was nowhere to be found, by anybody, much like Duncan. Funny how they were both linked to the Campbell bitch.   
Abigail sat back in her chair and steepled her fingers, lost in thought. Her grand project was nearing completion. In a couple of months, she would activate half the beacons and unleash havoc upon the world, before delivering the coup de gras and releasing the second wave of hybrids to overrun what remained. After the Falcon initiated obtaining governmental support and implemented the collection of the last generation on each continent, then Abigail would be able to start her trials with the Melvatox drug. Once they were underway, the release of the hybrids into the remaining populations around the world would cause so much chaos and destruction, the disappearance of the children will be a minor crisis among much larger, and more life-threatening issues closer to home.  
Once the children were dosed with Melvatox and vaccinated against the hybrids, they would be the only ones left who could live on the earth, the last breeding stock of the human race, who, along with the few who would also be artificially 'invisible' to the hybrids, would be cared for at a hideout until the world was destroyed, ready to be reborn under a new guiding hand, the old swept away and gone. It was a marvelous vision, Abigail quite lost in the daydream, a smile stretched across her face as her brain painted a series of possible futures for her to admire. 

Part Five – The Plane, JFK Airport.

Jamie called through to Ducan, using her mobile, to lower the ramp. She had several bags of groceries at her feet and tapped her foot as she waited impatiently for the ramp to reach the ground. Duncan was there and she beamed at him.  
“We were running low, so I shopped.”  
He looked at the number of bags and reached to pick up a couple. “You sure did. Was there anything left for anyone else?”  
They got the supplies aboard and shut the plane up once more. Several treks into the interior with the groceries brought them together in the upstairs lounge. Duncan looked at her face and put out a hand to stop her bustling back and forth.  
“You have news?”  
Jamie put down the bags of fruit and turned, throwing her arms around him in a hug. “I do.”  
Duncan hugged her back and led her over to the chairs. “Then tell me?”  
They sat down, Jamie turned sideways to face him. “I know where we can get Mansdale.”  
“You've found where he's hiding out?”  
“I had several leads which I was going to follow up after I got back from my...holiday. One has turned up a positive sighting of him. If we act now, he'll still be there but not after tonight.”  
Duncan looked impressed. “That's some precise information.”  
She shrugged. “They know I pay well for solid intel.”  
“So where we going?”   
“Oh, no. I am not risking my ace in the hole. I'll go pick him up and bring back here, then we can question him.”  
“And I'm not letting you do this all on your own. We're in this together, right?”  
They stared at each other, Jamie the first to drop her eyes to her lap. “Fine. Truthfully I could use some help. Mansdale won't be alone. I thought we could gas the place and get him out without anyone seeing us.”  
“Abigail will have cameras set up, she always does, so she'll see who takes him.”  
“Then we'll need a disguise. You could be made to look more bulky, well fatter anyway, and I could look more like a man and less like a woman. Together with our faces covered, that should confuse her.”  
“You thinking of keeping him in one of the cages? Upstairs or downstairs?”  
Jamie waved a hand dismissively. “Downstairs, of course, otherwise he'll keep us awake with his yelling.”  
Duncan grinned darkly at her. “Love it when you go all ninja babe. When do we leave?”

The building was in darkness, but that was deceptive. They'd been watching the only exit since just after darkness fell, seeing one or two enter, but none leave in the hours since. With the application of kevlar tactical vests under clothing and extra padding in places, plus gas masks and balaclavas to hide their faces, there was little chance even the best infrared or night vision camera would be able to make out who they were. The car was a non-descript junker with plates removed, and they intended to use a sedative gas to knock anyone out who was inside. If everything went to plan they'd have Mansdale in the lockup on the plane before midnight. 

The operation went off without a hitch. Mansdale and his small team were unprepared and fell prey to the gas, slumping over tabletops and chair backs. Only one man had the foresight to grab a gas mask but it had been too late and he'd succumbed the same as his fellow teammates. Duncan and Jamie checked the bodies then located Greg, heaving him onto a collapsible gurney and wheeling him, nonchalantly, out to the car. Jamie went back inside to search the safe house for anything useful, then rejoined Duncan outside, not once taking off her mask, neither of them removing anything until they were well away from the building and the reach of the cameras. Mansdale slumbered in the trunk while his kidnappers paused to put plates back on the car, not wanting to be stopped by police on their return to the plane. Back at the hanger, Mansdale was lugged down into the belly of the plane and left to sleep off the gas behind bars. Then, and only then did Jamie and Duncan peel off their disguises and extra clothing. They exchanged a high five and went to bed, their prisoner secure until they were ready to question him.

Part Six – Shepherd Base, New York.

“What!?” Abigail was facing the team she'd sent to safeguard Mansdales hideout. The men shuffled their feet.   
“We woke up and he was gone. The security cameras just showed him being carried out to a car and dumped in the trunk, then they took off.”  
“What sort of car? What were the number plates?”  
“Some old junker and it had no plates. Looked like a couple of guys snatched him.”  
“Didn't you run the facial recognition software I sent with you?”  
“No good. No faces. They wore gas masks.”  
Abigail wanted to scream in frustration. Now she'd lost Mansdale. “Get out of my sight.” She ordered, watching as the men walked out of her workroom. If she'd had a gun in her hand she would have shot them all for their incompetence. She plugged the USB into her computer to check the security footage herself, but it was just as the men had reported. There were two attackers, neither of them particularly memorable, both dressed in dark clothing, both obviously male and with faces covered by gas masks. The car was equally unremarkable, the only recognizable object throughout the entire footage was the insensible body of Greg Mansdale tossed into the trunk without ceremony and even less care.   
It was time she moved again. Greg knew a lot, but he didn't know all her bolt-holes. Even if he spilled the beans at the first round of torture, she'd be long gone and out of reach. She only had to be patient for a few more weeks and her plans would be counting down to the release of the hybrids on an unsuspecting world. 

Part Seven – The Plane, JFK Airport.

Duncan winced as another scream echoed up the stairs and through the plane. He stared at the screen, unable to concentrate for more than two seconds before another howl from the prisoner drew his attention. The cattle prod Jamie insisted on using would be painful but not permanently damaging, the burns easily treated. She had insisted he not be present at the questioning, wanting to preserve the illusion that she was alone in her mission to bring down the remaining Shepherds. She also needed to check that Mansdale wasn't lying to her with his answers to her questions. Duncan had already supplied the answers to nearly all of them, so if Mansdale decided to play games and give her false information, she'd know. So far, she'd just been softening him up, making him understand that false bravado and belligerence only provoked her to use the cattle prod on him. When he had finally got it through his thick head she meant business, the real questioning would start. 

“How goes it?”  
Jamie lay her weapon of choice on the bench top. “Slowly. Like all men, he underestimates me.”  
Duncan took in her tight-lipped expression and held out his arms. Unlike most men, he didn't underestimate her but also understood the toll that torturing the man would take on her. Jamie folded herself against him and sighed.   
“I wish there was another way, but I've found that there is nothing I can say that will get the message home that I mean business. It always comes down to the universal leveler – pain.”  
“I've got some analgesic spray you could use as a bargaining tool. Use if on the worst burn, let him see how well it works, then ask your questions. You might find a carrot works as well as a stick.”  
She rubbed her head against his shoulder. “I'll try it.”

When she next disappeared into the dungeon there was less screaming and longer silences, proving that she had taken his advice and used it. Her mood and expression when she next appeared was more relaxed and very positive.   
“You're right, the carrot worked like a dream. I asked him the test questions and he answered them all correctly, so I asked a few others and I think he's caved.”  
“That's good, because I think you've had enough today, and I've got muscle cramp in my cheek from all the wincing and cringing every time he yelled.”  
Jamie laughed. “I guess I'll have to feed and water him. Maybe only water at this stage. We have a bucket somewhere, don't we?”  
“Take the poor bastard a blanket as well,” Duncan suggested. “Carrot, remember?”

Mansdale certainly caved with little more required to persuade him of Jamie's commitment to finding out all she wanted about the Shepherds. She didn't intend to keep him long, just long enough to find out everything he knew about the Falcon, plus the locations of the Shepherd bases, then she'd hand him over to the Wool Gatherers to bring up on charges for his crimes. She recorded all her session with him, to rewatch later on and transcribe the facts, adding the knowledge to her detailed database on the diminished group. Mansdale claimed to have no knowledge of who the Falcon was specifically, only that they were so high up to be almost untouchable and to be implementing a special project to do with the last generation of children, but again he had no details of exactly what was planned. When Jamie discussed it with Duncan he was able to fill in some of the gaps.   
“It's all to do with Melvatox-B,” he told her.   
“Which is?”  
“A formulation to enable the human brain to influence animal behavior. I designed it to target certain areas of the brain cortex, to stimulate the area that enables communication. Abigail wants to trial it on the last born children, to enable them to control the hybrids and take over the world once the rest of the adult population are destroyed by the mass release of the creatures in every center of populations.”  
“Did she tell you all this?”  
“Not directly, but I watched, I listened and I put the facts together.” He shrugged. “I'm smart.”  
“Yes, you are. So somehow this Falcon is going to round up all the children, put them somewhere and test this drug on them.”  
“Yup.”  
“How do we stop this happening?”  
“I think the more urgent problem is how do we stop the nests seeded everywhere from hatching. If just one of those beacons are activated and start broadcasting it will cause chaos.”  
“But we know where they are. Why not simply tell the authorities and get them to destroy the nests?”  
“True, but how do we stop Abigail just setting up shop somewhere else and starting this crazy all over again?”  
“Well for one, the Shepherd organization is all but destroyed, and secondly she won't have access to the resources she had before. This is her one shot at taking over a world. If we can shut off the beacons and destroy the nests, then that would be the end of it.”  
Duncan continued. “And if the hybrid threat is neutralized, then the world can work on solving the sterility crisis and people can get back to making babies.”  
Jamie snorted. “Not quite that simple, but yes, I suppose so.”  
Duncan looked at her downcast expression. “You don't like babies?”  
“By the time they find a cure I'll be too old, plus no one knows what effect the gas had on our bodies. We assumed it just made us infertile, but what if it actually kicked all the females of childbearing ability into a form of menopause, where the whole system shuts down, no more hormones, no more eggs, and the ovaries shrivel into raisins. It won't matter what age you are then, there's no going back.” Jamie bit her lip to hold back the tears.   
Duncan gestured to the lab. “I can tell you right now what's going on inside you if you want to know. We have an ultrasound and I know roughly where all your bits are supposed to be and look like...” he raised both eyebrows, daring her to say no. Jamie looked back at him.  
“It could tell if...?” she gestured to her midsection. He nodded. She screwed her face up, torn between wanting to know, and not having her fears confirmed. Hope won out over fear.   
“Okay. Let's do it.”

Jamie lay back on the gurney, the cold metal padded with blankets to make it fractionally more comfortable. Duncan had the ultrasound set up, the screen easily visible to Jamie and him, sitting as he was at her side. He had on gloves and her torso was bare, currently smeared with clear jelly to make a good contact for the wand to slide over her skin. She'd filled up on water to make her bladder clearly visible and to help locate all her other internal bits and pieces. Duncan started to push the head of the wand over her belly.  
“Okay, well, here you can see your bladder, nice and full.” He moved it across and back, then held it steady. “Here's your uterus, empty as you'd expect...” He frowned as the image didn't appear as he'd expected. “Um...moving along, here is one of your ovaries, not looking like a raisin as you can see.” Jamie squinted at the blob. “I'll take your word on that. It all looks pretty blobbish to me.”  
“Yeah, well...” he moved it higher up her torso. “Here's your liver, all looking normal.” He moved the head around to her side. “A kidney, looking good. Back to the front and we have your stomach, gallbladder, upper intestine, lower intestine...and once more down to the bladder and uterus.” He lingered over the area around her belly button, moving the wand just slightly, the image on the screen moving to show different sections of her reproductive system. Shaking his head he pulled the wand away. “So, looking all normal as you'd expect. No raisins, no shrunken heads, nothing weird or menopausal.” He put the wand down and reached for a paper towel to wipe off the lubricant jelly still on her skin. “So you haven't menstruated since you left the island?”  
Jamie shook her head. “Nope. And I wasn't miraculously 'missed' by the gas. If I had I'd have been pregnant long before now.” She pulled down her top and sat up.  
Duncan felt her comments like a hammer blow to the guts. “There was somebody else?”  
“Logan. Didn't I tell you about him?”  
“Must have skipped your mind in all the excitement. You can get down now.” He rolled his stool back to give her room to jump off the gurney. Jamie looked at him, but he avoided her eyes.   
“Of course, it's a strong possibility that men were equally affected as women by the gas. In which case it wouldn't matter either way.” He got up to strip off the gloves and clean off the ultrasound wand, concentrating on that to the exclusion of all else.   
Jamie moved next to him and stilled his hands. “Leave that. I want to tell you about Logan.” She drew him towards the small lounge just beyond the laboratory. She pushed him into one of the seats, before sitting beside him.   
“I met Logan when I was missing presumed dead when the plane crashed. You thought I'd died, everyone did. In fact, I was rescued by a kind man, a fisherman, and he cared for me, but I was there for several months. I'd had a piece of metal puncture my thigh and it had to heal. Anyway, long story short, his place was overrun by animals and I had to leave before you could get there to rescue me. During my trek through the woods to find somewhere safe, I met up with Logan. He was full of bullshit about his reasons for being there, but it involved money he'd stolen from some bad guys. We ended up burning the money to keep warm, and he had to cut off my big toe because it had gone black. I'd stepped on a nail but my toes were frozen and I never felt it. We eventually reached Caraquet but not before finding out that Logan had been looking for me, for the reward on my head put there by the FBI, because I shot an agent who was in the pay of Reiden.”  
“I read some of this in the books,” Duncan added drily. “Was he the character named Luke?”  
“That's right. Anyway, in the end, Logan betrayed us all by contacting General Davis and I shot him with a dart gun and he fell off the plane. When we next met up he was trying to steal the DNA, he'd changed sides and was pretty much in it just for himself. After that, he kind of joined our team right up until you died.”  
“Which is where the book leaves him.”  
“Yeah. So, after I became guardian to Clem, Logan came with us to Boston. He really didn't have anywhere else to go, so we let him live with us. He was good with Clem, and he helped around the house, no strings attached. He said he was in love with me, and I thought you were dead.”  
“So you slept with him.”  
“He stayed in the spare room for a year, while we lived at Emerson, then one night...well, anyway we ended up sleeping together, but he knew I didn't love him, it was just sex.”  
“But he left?”  
“Not so much left as gave up waiting for me to give you up. He asked me to marry him a year or so later and I couldn't accept. I just could not love him the way he wanted me too.”  
“Because you still loved Mitch...er....me.”  
“Exactly. He ended up joining the New York police department and last I heard he was working up to being a detective.”  
“Hmmm. So since this Logan left, there's been nobody before me.”  
Jamie shook her head. “I couldn't bear to do to somebody else, what I'd done to Logan. Until I could give Mitch up, there seemed little point.”  
“C'mere...” he gestured at his lap and Jamie got up, walked the step between them and settled onto his legs, looping her arms around his neck, his arms wrapping around her body to hold her close.   
“I don't know what Mitch did to deserve your loyalty, but I want you to know you have mine.”  
Jamie gazed down at him, misty-eyed, her hands running over his head, then smoothing over his face and cupping his cheeks. “Mitch or Duncan, I no longer distinguish between the two. You are one and the same man to me, and I love you.” She bent her head and kissed him, the embrace soft and unhurried, hands and fingers smoothing over clothing and skin, time no longer relevant.

The shrill tone of her phone ringing pulled them apart. With a final peck, she slid off his lap and went to the bar. Duncan watched her, noting the look of surprise on her face when she looked at the screen. She pressed the button to answer, speaking but looking over at Duncan.   
“Logan! Wow, long time huh!?”  
“Yeah. Look, Jamie, I have some questions to ask you, can I come on board?”  
“You're outside?”  
“Yeah. If you'll lower the ramp I can come in.”  
“Oh, sure. Hang on a minute I'll need to find the tablet.” She shut off the phone. “Um...he'd coming on board and I don't want him to...um...”  
Duncan waved a hand, dismissing her confusion. “I'll be in the first bedroom if you need me.” He made to walk past her and she kissed his cheek as he passed. Still grumbling to himself he went up the back spiral stairs to the bedrooms to hide out.

Jamie picked up the tablet and lowered the ramp, wondering if she'd conjured Logan up simply by talking about him. Shaking her head at the whimsy of that idea, she went to meet him.   
“Hey!” she called out, waiting for him to reach her. They exchanged an awkward kiss on the cheek in greeting, then she turned to lead him into the plane. Logan looked different from the last time she'd seen him. He wasn't in a uniform, just in casual formal, sporting a shirt and tie under his overcoat. He had also grown a goatee and tash.  
“This is new,” she indicated his face and he shrugged.   
“Just trying it out for size. How've you been, Jamie?” although he was speaking to her, his eyes were looking around the lab, inspecting everything.  
“I've been good. Just got back from holiday...”  
“Yeah. About that...” his gaze was back on her, slightly accusingly.   
“I called Clem and Max and apologized for not being in touch,” she told him.  
“So Clem told me. She was really worried about you. What happened to Jamaica?”  
Jamie shrugged and led him through to the downstairs lounge and bar, slipping behind it to mix herself a drink. “I changed my mind, mid-flight, that's all. Drink?”  
Logan shook his head, still looking around as if expecting to find something. “So where did you go?”  
“A couple of places, South America for one, Canada for another.”  
“Anybody go to those places with you?”  
“Nope.”  
“Pick up anybody along the way?”  
“Nope. Is there a reason for this questioning?”  
Logan instantly brought out his most charming smile. “No reason, just curious. I'm surprised you don't have someone living in, for company and sex at the very least.”  
“You putting yourself forward for the position?” Jamie sipped her drink and looked at him up and down.  
Logan gave a small laugh. “Nope. I'm tempted, but no. Once bitten, and all that.”  
It was Jamie's turn to shrug. “So why the house call?”  
He sat down in one of the chairs, the one Duncan had occupied minutes before. “I've been asked to investigate the disappearance of someone. Greg Mansdale. Though you might know something about it?”  
“I know a lot about Greg Mansdale, as do you. He was the one who shot General Davis, he's a Shepherd and part of the conspiracy to sterilize the world. I would assume he'd be on your most wanted list for questioning at the very least.”  
Logan drummed his fingers impatiently. “He is. In fact, we had him under surveillance and were going to pick him up only days ago.”  
Jamie looked surprised. “You were? That'll be a feather in your cap, is there a promotion attached to his capture?”  
“No. And we didn't get to capture him, someone beat us to it.”  
Jamie looked suitable dumfounded. “Who knew he was there?”  
“As far as we knew, no one, except us. Look, I know you're tied in with these Shepherd hunters somehow, although there's no specific proof...”  
Jamie lifted her glass in salute.  
“But, if you know anything about his whereabouts, or who has him, I'd greatly appreciate the information.”  
He waited for her to answer, his expression serious. Jamie walked over and sat down in the chair beside him, still nursing her glass.  
“You are right, I have been keeping tabs on the Shepherd hunters, but I haven't been able to contribute much. They were more interested in my history with them on Pangaea. I have no idea who might have Mansdale, I'm not privy to that sort of information. Sorry.”  
Logan leaned back in the chair and lifted his hand to cover his face for a moment. “Damn. We were so close to catching the bastard. He could have been the key to finding those still in hiding.”  
Jamie remained quiet, sipping her drink and keeping her thoughts off her face. This was probably not the time to tell Logan he had a leak in his department, the one that had given her the heads up about Mansdale.   
“Well, if you don't know anything, there's nothing more we can do but wait for whoever has him to cough him up, probably as a corpse somewhere.” Logan got to his feet, looking around the room. “I like what you did with the place. It looks just like it did before, only tidier, less crowded.” He turned  
to face her. “Is this really the answer? Living with ghosts in a time bubble?”  
Jamie got up and walked over to the bar to put her drink down. “I'm not alone, Logan. I have friends, I go out, you must have seen me in the society pages, even if only to satisfy your curiosity.”  
“I did. You were the sensation of the season, for a little while. Everyone likes a novelty...”  
“Ouch. Is that what you think I am? A one-shot wonder? Last years fashion tragedy?”  
“No. I just find it sad that you choose to live alone on a plane with ghosts for company, not even a pet.”  
“Ah, now there you are wrong. Come on, I'll introduce you to my pets.” She marched out the room Logan a few steps behind her. They approached the wall of perspex and glass cages with their assortment of occupants. “This is Steve, he has a nasty sting so don't try and pet him. This is Colin, he's a darling and loves to be stroked. These two are Jesse and Juniper, the one on the left is venomous, the one on the right is not, but they look so similar it's hard to tell them apart.”  
Logan shook his head and laughed. “Only you would consider these...bugs as pets.” He wandered over to the aquarium. “I see you kept the jellyfish.”  
“Yeah. He's pretty cool.” She appeared through the other side of the tank, peering back at him.   
“Look, if you turn up anything on Mansdale, can you let me know?” He reached into his coat and pulled out a business card. “Here's my number.”  
She took it, then followed him as he made his way to the loading ramp. When he had walked to the bottom, but before he stepped off, he looked back at her, his expression wry. “Oh, and Jamie? Tell your friend not to be so heavy handed with the aftershave next time. Bye.” He waved, stepped off the ramp and disappeared around the corner.   
Jamie toggled the control and shut the 'back door'.   
“Your detective is sharper than you think.” Duncan's voice behind her made her jump.   
“He only suspects, he has no proof.”  
His warm hands landed on her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “Hell, you're as tense as a spring. Come on, I know how to loosen you up.”  
“Does that offer come with a guarantee?” Jamie asked, happy for him to pull her along by the hand back into the plane.  
“Gold fucking plated.”

Part Eight – Hidden headquarters of the Wool Gatherers, New York division. 

The young man seated at the computer station scrolled through the numerous messages from their various sources, most of them queries, some with snippets of possible sighting, but none needing more than a cursory glance and a quick flick to send them to the appropriate section head. A message alert popped up and he clicked on it. It was a regular that had supplied them with good intel in the past.  
“Birdy is online,” he called out to his compatriot seated behind him.   
“What she got for us this time?” came back the response.   
“Holy shit, you gotta see this!”  
His shiftmate rolled his chair over beside him and peered at the screen. Birdy had attached an image to her message, the man in the picture holding a sign around his neck giving his name, location, and a time stamp.  
“Fuck, it's Greg Mansdale. Do we have someone available for the pickup?”  
His friend was already on the phone informing someone of where to find one of their most wanted.   
Birdy had also sent a zip file. It opened to reveal lists of coordinates, some in red, others in blue with the legend at the top of red equals a nest, blue equals a beacon. Their informant's only words for them were “Go fetch.”  
“Holy crap, get the team leader on the phone at once!”

The headquarters was in a ferment of activity with the latest dump of information from a source they'd yet to track down or trace. Birdy was the reason they'd been so successful in their hunt for Shepherds in recent years, but even so, this latest release of information far exceeded anything gone before. They duly picked up a relieved Greg Mansdale and after a truncated debrief, he was handed over to a Detective Logan Hale at the NYPD, as requested by the man himself.

The information about the nests and beacons was validated when they searched for and found the one hidden in a New York neighbourhood, the technical specs sent with the location list allowing them to disarm the beacon, something they were very glad of when they found the quantity of explosive, enough to take out a city block, primed to explode if the beacon was tampered with or the power cut off. When they explored the location of the nest nearby they were both fascinated and revolted to see the hanging egg sacks containing embryonic hybrids waiting to be awoken. They had been warned it would likely be booby-trapped, so had gone prepared with full environmental suits, which was all that kept them alive when the biologically engineered vegetation in the room released toxic spores in response to their presence. A sample of the airborne spores later revealed they were fatal to humans, rapidly affecting the respiratory system, capable of killing in seconds. A team of top biologists and chemists were put onto the problem of how to neutralize the spores, to prevent them poisoning the air beyond the nest itself. When it was clear this was a global problem and would need more manpower and resources than they had, the information was passed on to the IADG to take over, along with samples of the egg sacks themselves, and the dangerous spores likely to be in each and every nest uncovered.   
Once the responsibility of the nests and beacons was passed on, the Wool Gatherers could turn their attention to the final cryptic message sent by Birdy. “Protect the last generation.”


	7. Round and Round the Mulberry Bush

Part One – Unknown location, Atlanta.

The shrill screech of her phone cut through the fog of sleep and woke her.   
“Speak,” she snapped.  
“Abigail, it's Leanne.”  
“What's happened?”  
“They are closing down the nests and deactivating the beacons.”  
“Fuck...fuckfuckfuck...”  
“It's worldwide. Someone has leaked the locations.”  
“Mansdale.”  
“Did he know all of them?”  
“No. But enough. Fuck.”  
“We need to move up the schedule.”  
“I'll send the signal. Are you ready to implement Genesis?”  
“It's unfortunate, but we don't yet have Senate approval and if we move without it...”  
“Fuck it. We don't need all of them, just some for guinea pigs.”  
“I'll be in touch once I have more news.”  
“Yeah. Same here. Good luck, Falcon.”

Abigail stared at the phone in her hand before tossing it on the bed. The other occupant of the bed sat up.  
“Get out.”  
Without a protest, the young man did as instructed, gathering up his clothes and leaving the room hurriedly. Abigail hardly noticed, her brain already sorting through her options. If the list came from Mansdale, then it was incomplete and there were still enough nests and beacons available to set off the others before they were destroyed or neutralized by the IADG or some other task force.   
Scrubbing her face to clear the sleep from her eyes, she put on her glasses, got up and padded over to the bank of screens along one wall. She switched them all on, the news screen streaming information about the lucky break the authorities were pursuing in stopping a terrorist attack on their various cities. Turning away from that, she brought up a technical screen and started to send out codes to activate those beacons not already compromised, several of them hopefully not on the list in the hands of the authorities. Some had been deliberately seeded in isolated locations to give them a fighting chance to establish and spread. Abigail was counting on those to bolster the ones that had been found already. If any of the eggs had been removed from the nests for study, whoever had them was in for a nasty shock once they hatched.   
She smiled grimly when she counted the number of beacons now active. It was more than enough to cause havoc, and she couldn't wait to see her children devastating the cities they were spawning into. The news would be well worth watching over the next few days. 

Part Two – Kenyatta residence, Ann Arbor, Michigan. 

“A parcel arrived for you this morning,” Dariela called out, turning the package over and seeing a familiar sender. “It's from Jackson.”  
Abe hurried in from the den. “That arrived fast. I'll be downstairs if you need me for anything.”  
“I'll probably be with Isaac. He was running a fever last night, so I'm keeping him home from school.”  
“Good idea,” Abe muttered, his mind already on the contents of the package. Jackson, or Dylan as he called himself, had sent a message to say something was coming that Abe would want to see. In his basement workroom, Abe carefully pulled the package apart to reveal the plastic container at its heart. Inside that was a vial, packed in dry ice, with a blood sample from a new hybrid that had appeared in Jackson's area. The image Jackson had sent suggested a mash-up of animals featuring some attributes of an ice age era Woolly Rhino, and others of something else. The fact it looked like a rhinoceros with a fur coat, was unusual enough, but it was also fast with excellent vision and wicked tusks to augment a curved, hooked horn, and a temper to match. Jackson had managed to get his hands on one, briefly, and instantly sent the blood sample to his friend to analyze.   
Abe prepared a slide and looked through the eyepiece. What he saw made him frown and take a second look. Even as he sat back from the microscope, the glass slide cracked under the lens. He hurriedly pulled the broken sample out and put it on an illuminated surface, the single drop of blood now replicating at an accelerated rate, spreading past the two thin sheets of glass within seconds. Both horrified and fascinated, Abe set up a camera to record the rate of growth, the blood drop already several times larger than before. The plastic container that had held the glass vial had been refrigerated, so he hurriedly chucked the remaining sample into the freezer before it had a chance to react to the warmer room temperature, as apparently, the smaller sample had done. The sound of splintering wood and Dariela crying out his name sent him running up the stairs. 

Dariela stared down the barrel of the gun and lifted her chin. “What the fuck do you want?”  
Whoever was behind the riot mask didn't respond, just held his weapon on her, hand steady as a rock. Behind him, the front door lay shattered on the floor of the entrance way.   
“ABE!” Dariela's call for her husband was quickly answered, the big man arriving just as another team of black-clad operatives barged in the back door, destroying the lock. Abe turned to face the new threat and found himself covered in red dots, his hands slowly moving up to rest on his head in surrender. Their dog, Pizza, danced around his feet, barking. One of the men grabbed the dog by the collar and dragged it out to shut away in another room.   
“What is this about?” Abe demanded. “We have done nothing wrong.”  
Another member of the squad eased past the gun carriers and held out a tablet after pressing a button. The image of a woman appeared on the screen and started to talk.  
“Hello, my name is Leanne Duchovny, I am chief executive of Reiden Global. Let me start by saying thank you for watching this video. I am excited to tell you that Reiden Global has made a breakthrough that we believe, with your help, will put an end to the sterility pandemic but sacrifices will need to be made for the greater good, which is the reason that I am addressing you. Your child has been selected to participate in our pilot programme. He or she will be safe in our custody...”  
Dariela suddenly screamed out her son's name, “Isaac!” Knocking the tablet out of the man's hand she darting between the soldiers. She was not fast enough. Still screaming her son's name, Dariela struggled against the hands holding her down on the floor, Abe swearing and shouting behind her, all the while the sound of boots above stairs confirming her worst fears. Soon they were clattering down the stairs, Isaac wrapped up in a comforter in their arms looking scared.  
“No, you can't take him, he's sick, he's not well...you can't...Isaac!”  
Abe was still struggling but a blow to the head sent him crashing to the carpet next to Dariela.   
“Bastards, don't take our son, leave him alone...oh, God...Isaac!” The hands twisting her arm in a punishing hold suddenly let her go, the men backing out of the house, guns still raised. In a nearby room, Pizza continued to bark, confused at what was happening to his human family.   
Dariela sobbing in pain and despair, crawled over to Abe, cradling his head which was bleeding sluggishly. “Oh, God, Abe...our son...our Isaac...God help us!”

The tablet had been dropped in the tussle, the benign face of Leanne Duchovny just finishing her presentation. “...and again, I wish you thank you for your compliance with the Emergency Government Protocol, also in helping us save the world with the promise of future generations to come. Goodbye.”  
Part Three – The Plane, JFK Airport, New York. 

Jamie snuggled under the covers, willing herself back to sleep. It was already late morning but she felt like she'd not slept a wink, still tired and sluggish, her brain foggy and unfocused. Duncan had got up hours ago, leaving her to sleep on. Now he was shaking her shoulder and demanding she wake up.   
“Come on, Jamie open your eyes, there's lots of news you need to see.”  
“Go away, I'm tired.”  
“Tired or not, you need to get up.” Not waiting for her to stir, he simply gathered her up, covers and all, and carried her out of the bedroom to the lounge, the big tv on the wall already blaring the headlines. Duncan deposited his bundle into one of the chairs, Jamie muttering darkly at him.  
“Shut up and watch this, it's important,” he ordered.  
Jamie huffed and reached up to push the sheet away from her face. The news announcer was talking about abductions and protests and creature sighting, while the byline under the image repeated the short bytes of news endlessly.   
“..and we continue to have reports of children being snatched from their homes, out of their parent's arms in some cases. We have tried to contact Reiden Global for comment on allegations this has been done on their instigation, despite not having approval from the Senate committee formed to discuss the sterility issue in regards the last generation, but so far they haven't replied with any statements...”  
Jamie turned to gape at Duncan who was leaning against the bar, his arms crossed over his chest.   
“What the fuck?” Jamie shook her head. “What about Isaac? Oh, my God, I need to call Dariela!!”  
He held out her phone and she took it, hurriedly dialing the Kenyatta's home number. It rang for a long time and then was picked up. A shaky, shrill voice on the end demanded to know who was calling.  
“Who is this!?”  
“Dariela? This is Jamie. I just saw the news...”  
“Jamie?” Dariela started crying, sobbing into the phone. Jamie looked up at Duncan before speaking again. “Dariela, what's happened? Please tell me...did they take Isaac?”  
“He...he's gone, my baby was taken...”  
Jamie listened as Dariela cried some more, then she heard a rumble of a voice. “Dariela, give me over to Abe to speak to.” The next voice she heard was her friend, Abe's.  
“Jamie, I'm sorry but Dariela is very distressed, we both are. We had no warning, they just broke in and stole our boy.” Jamie could hear Dariela still crying in the background.  
“I'm so sorry, is there anything I can do?”  
“It was Reiden Global who took him. They say it's some sort of Emergency Government Protocol, but what sort of government takes children from their homes? Holds their parents at gunpoint and steals them away? We don't know where they will have taken him.”  
“Abe? Look, I'll do some digging, see if I can find out where they are, okay? Stay by the phone, I'll call you back as soon as I have something. Take care of each other.”  
She hung up the call and stared down at the screen. Suddenly she threw off the blankets and got to her feet. “Fucking Reiden Global again. I swear I'm going to blow up those bastards so they're never, ever heard of again....fuck!”  
Duncan plucked the phone from her hand. “This is all part of the Shepherd plan. They must be running scared now the hybrid nests and beacons are being discovered. Abigail and the Falcon must have brought the project forward.”  
Jamie gripped his arm. “Where would they take them? This is hardly low key, the other parents will be after them when they get over their shock, there'll be protests all over the country.”  
Duncan shook his head. “Apart from formulating the compound, I had no part in the next stage. I don't know where they'd take them.”  
Jamie was thinking, pacing back and forth across the square of carpet. Duncan muted the television to help her concentrate.   
“Alright,” she said after a few minutes. “We know the Reiden Global head office is here in New York. We could attempt to break in and find the information directly from the horse's mouth, so to speak.”  
“We could. Or we could break into the warehouse of Houghton Warring and find out where they shipped the Melvatox-B to.”  
“Houghton Warring?”  
“They manufactured the chemical formula I created. It's likely that they shipped the finished product only recently. If we find a waybill, that will tell us where they sent it.”  
“Could it be that simple?”  
“Everything has been thrown up into the air. Abigail will be trying to save her hybrids by activating as many nests and beacons as she can before they are found and destroyed. The Falcon, who I'm coming to think is closely associated with Reiden Global, are suddenly pushing to test the Melvatox-B on the children. Our best bet is to follow the drugs.”  
Jamie worried her lip. “Maybe it is that simple. I need to get dressed.”

Their arrival at the small chemical pharmaceutical plant was amidst a scene of chaotic confusion. Instead of having to bluff or break their way in, they were able to walk in unchallenged, the staff evacuating the building in some haste. Duncan went to talk to a security guard behind the front desk, the man hurriedly pushing stuff into a duffle bag. He looked up when Duncan rapped on the desktop.   
“This is my stuff...I'm not stealing!” the guard blustered, backing away.   
“I don't give a shit if you steal everything. What's going on here?”  
“The management just told us all to leave the building or face being arrested. The feds are on their way. That's all I know, now if you'll excuse me...” the man took off, the bulging backpack bouncing on his shoulder. Duncan strode over to where Jamie stood against a wall, out of the way of the fleeing employees.   
“Apparently the feds are on their way. We need to find what we're looking for before they arrive.”  
“We need that paperwork. It'll be either in the main office in the files or still down at despatch to be sent up. You want to take despatch?”  
“Fine. But don't take any unnecessary risks. Call me if you find anything.”  
They separated, Duncan to go further into the ground floor to find where the finished products were shipped, Jamie to check the list of departments before using the lift to get to the appropriate floor. 

She was on her second filing cabinet when her phone rang. She jammed it against her ear and carried on checking the files.   
“Find anything?”  
“Got some paperwork that seems to fit. Anything at your end?”  
“Nope. Still looking.”  
“Anybody up there with you?”  
“Nope...ur, actually yeah...I have to hang up now...hero.” Jamie shut off the phone and raised her hands.   
“What are you looking for, Miss Campbell?” the man holding the gun on her asked.   
“Funny, I don't know you...have we met?”  
“Not really, but I know your face, my wife read your books and was star struck for a while.”  
“Oh, a fan. You didn't like them, I take it.”  
“You've managed to put away a great many of my friends and colleagues, Miss Campbell. I know you are associated with the rabble who search out the Shepherds, so that makes you as guilty as them.”  
Jamie raised an eyebrow. “You know they're taking children now, taking them to test with a drug that you made. Melvatox-B. They think it will allow the children to talk to animals.”  
The man laughed, the gun remaining pointed at her head. “Is that one of your conspiracy theories? I thought you people were smarter than to believe everything you hear.”  
“What do you think the drug was for?” Jamie asked, praying she was giving Duncan enough time to get up to her floor. The man shrugged.   
“I neither know nor care. I'm in business for profits, not for moralizing liberals.”  
Jamie bristled. “Then you don't care that it could poison our one best chance for a future?”  
The man sneered. “We have no future, we only have what little time is left to us. I intend to live it well. A shame you won't have that opportunity.” His finger started to squeeze the trigger and Jamie closed her eyes. There was no way he could miss this close. She jumped when the gun fired but there was no pain, no impact. Opening her eyes she saw Duncan standing over the man, now insensible on the floor, the gun skittering across the floor and under a desk.   
“You okay?” Duncan asked, his voice harsh. Jamie nodded. She turned back to the filing cabinet and seconds later pulled out a file with the name of the drug on the cover.   
“Found it.” She waved the folder and started to leave the room, Duncan on her heels. The man on the floor groaned and sat up.   
“You can't stop it now, it's started. You're too late...” his voice shut off when Duncan shut the door behind them. In the distance, they could hear the wail of police sirens.   
“Time we left.”  
Duncan led the way down the emergency stairs until they reached the third floor, then he pulled open the stairway door and jogged along the corridor until they reached a service lift. This took them down to the production and despatch floor. They reached the loading dock and managed to dodge between the trucks left parked in the lot, avoiding the numerous agent's cars that screamed to a halt where moments before they'd been making their escape.   
“Come on, we'll circle around back to the main access road.”  
“What about my car?”  
He was about to answer when a thunderous explosion rent the air, a billowing cloud of smoke and debris shrouding the building and surrounding area as if a fog had suddenly descended. Jamie grabbed Duncan's hand and they raced to where they'd left her car, the white paint job barely visible under the coating of ash and dust raining down on it. Jamie jumped in the driver's side, getting the vehicle moving, but not fast, just slowly cruising out of the carpark and along a back road, avoiding the main road and the likely roadblock set up there. More sirens were coming closer, a firetruck screaming towards the burning building, an ambulance not far behind. 

Jamie pulled over once they were far enough away, Duncan already looking through the file for any indication where the drugs had been sent. “Says they were shipped three days ago, which ties with the paperwork I found in the loading bay.”  
“Does it give a destination?” Jamie asked, taking one of the dockets.   
“Yeah. There's an address. But I don't think that's where they're holding the children.”  
Jamie frowned when he pointed out the street address for the delivery.   
“That's the headquarters for Reiden Global.”  
“Yeah. I think maybe we should set the dogs to watch who comes and goes from the place. Someone high up must know about the drugs and the children.”  
Jamie nodded in agreement. “I'll send the Wool Gatherers a message when we get back to the plane. My phone isn't secure enough.”

The news on the television was no better when they returned to the plane. The authorities had found several nests, but due to their self-defense mechanism, they couldn't be destroyed until a spore neutralizer was laid down, and production of the neutralizer was a slow process. Several beacons had been activated but attempts to shut them down had proved either useless or disastrous, with one beacon destroying a city center when a team tried to disconnect the power to it without waiting for the technical information. The nest connected to that beacon hadn't been found due to the number of casualties and the need for everyone to pitch in to help, including all police and military. Other nests had already matured, releasing their hellish creatures on the local population, the hybrids proving to be fast and cunning, and very hard to kill, even in their semi-adult state. More and more reports of hybrids were pouring in from around the country, causing disruptions to phone communication and in some places, a mass exodus of the population to get away from the hybrid invasion with limited success.   
Jamie stared at the screen with her head in her hands.   
“What are we going to do?” she whispered, staring at the images of chaos and carnage, some footage taken by members of the public of creatures born of a sick imagination, running around the streets and causing traffic pile-ups to add to the misery.   
“Have you tried to get hold of Dariela or Abe again?” Duncan asked.  
Jamie shook her head. “They're only going to want to know one thing. Where is their son? I don't know what to say to them.”  
Duncan sat down beside her and took one of her hands, wrapping it within his and holding on.   
“We could do what we did before, get the band back together and try and find a way to stop the hybrids, find the children and cure sterility.”  
Jamie stared at him, amused. “Get the band back together?”  
“Why not? If we had access to samples of all the new hybrids, we could possibly find a way to kill them without affecting the ordinary animals. You said we did it before, why not now?”  
Jamie looked more hopeful. “It's possible. We could fly up to Ann Arbor and collect Dariela and Abe, he's a specialist now, focusing on reproductive endocrinology. Maybe something in his discipline will be helpful. Plus we can use my contacts to try and track down the children.”  
Duncan grinned.“ That's my girl. Give them a call. Then we need to get this bird in the air.”

Part Four – The Plane, Ann Arbor airport, Pittsfield, Michigan. 

The A380 was the biggest plane to land at the airport, ever. Fortunately, the recent upgrades had strengthened the runway to be able to support larger aircraft, fully laden with fuel and cargo. When they taxied onto the apron, they could see Dariela and Abe waiting for them behind the fence surrounding the passenger terminal. Despite the unusual size, the ground crew had a ladder truck available and positioned it in front of the second forward hatchway. Jamie unlocked it and swung the door outward, locking the stairs onto the fuselage to keep it in place.   
An official from the airport requested permission to come onboard, presenting Jamie with the paperwork needed to be completed before she could be refueled and checked over by the ground staff. After signing off, she saw the official off the plane and followed him down the stairs to meet Dariela and Abe who were crossing the tarmac towards her. Jamie embraced Dariela, then Abe, leading them to the stairs, helping with their small mountain of baggage. There was also a stack of boxes and plastic bins, which Abe explained was to do with his work. Jamie left those for the ground staff to load into the cargo hold. They also had their golden retriever with them, the dog clambering up the stairs next to his owners. Once onboard, Jamie showed them to one of the staterooms and told them to come to the lounge when they were ready. 

“God, I'm nervous.” Jamie clutched at his hand, waiting for her friends to appear.  
“For fuck's sake, they're your friends. It'll be alright.”  
She glanced up at him, amazed at his calm. She heard Abe's voice and prepared for their surprise.   
“Jamie?”  
“In here, Abe.”  
Dariela entered the lounge first, her gaze resting on Jamie with a smile before flicking her eyes up to the man standing behind her. Her expression turned into one of shock.  
“Abe?” Dariela reached for her husband, Abe standing similarly shocked, his mouth open to see their dead friend apparently hale and hearty and very much alive.   
“Mitch?”  
Jamie looked up at Duncan with an apology in her eyes. “Not quite. Abe, Dariela? This is Charles Duncan.”  
Dariela sat down heavily in one of the chairs, looking up at Jamie with confusion. “But, it's Mitch!”  
Abe had walked forward, coming to stand almost nose to nose with Duncan.   
“How is this possible? You had prepared yourself to die, you knew it was coming. We grieved for you.”  
“But we never found a body, Abe,” Jamie reminded him. “Duncan is Mitch, but not. He has none of Mitch's memories and he only remembers what has happened after he woke up, a year after Pangaea.”  
“And yet he is here, with you,” Abe glanced down at their joined hands. “And you have accepted him as this Duncan?”  
Jamie sighed. “It's a long story...”  
“I think this will prove it quicker than any explanation.” Before Jamie could protest that he didn't need to do that, he had let go of her hand and pulled his t-shirt off over his head, displaying his heavily scarred torso to his former friends. Dariela got to her feet, shocked, her hand over her mouth. Abe stared and winced as Duncan lifted his arm to show off the ragged scar winding around his ribs, then turned to show his ripped up back. It was obvious to anyone who saw him that he'd been savagely attacked, something most people would not have survived.   
“That explains all the blood we found,” Abe muttered, reaching out but not touching one of the more extensive claw marks. Duncan put his shirt back on.   
“The Shepherds rescued him and fixed him up, but in the process, he lost all memory of Mitch and us, although he retained what Mitch knew in regards to chemistry and science,” Jamie explained.  
Dariela sat down again. “But how is he here? If he forgot about you, I mean.”  
Jamie sat in the chair next to her. “Actually, it's kinda a funny story...”  
Her friends listened while she gave them a redacted version of how Duncan came to be on the plane, playing down his original purpose and actions and bringing it quickly up to the present day. Abe and Dariela weren't quite so easily fooled.   
“How do you know he's not just here as a spy for the Shepherds?” Dariela asked, looking at Duncan warily.   
Jamie looked up at him, her heart in her eyes. “I just know, Dariela, trust me. He's no more a friend of the Shepherds than I am.”  
“I have to say I have never heard of a case of amnesia where the patient retains the working knowledge of his life and learning, yet forgets all the people and connections, even his personality,” observed Abe. “Was something put in your head to achieve this?”  
Duncan unconsciously reached up to the side of his head, remembering the heavy bandaging there when he woke up. “I had some sort of operation on my head because I remember the amount of bandaging they had to take off. But I was never told what it was for, or why.”  
Abe looked at him narrowly. “It is possible something could have been put into your brain to give you a selective memory wipe, very much like amnesia, but it only removes the identity of the patient, his personality, and memory of people and relationships. It's entirely unethical and morally repugnant, but was proposed as a solution to criminals who could not be redeemed or returned to normal society due to their extreme psychosis or violent tendencies and unrepentant attitude.”  
“How did you hear about this, Abe?” Jamie asked.  
“It was in an old medical journal I found. The technology was an import from Russia, tested on their most heinous criminals, using them as guinea pigs. Although initially successful in supplanting the violent personality with one less so, the men in those early trials didn't survive. Their either went insane, or something screwed up with the implant and they died, not remembering how to eat or breath or some other important bodily function. Each subject experienced a different set of after effects, and each had a different timeframe as to when it would fail. Either way, the project was a failure and the bio drives scrapped. It was assumed that it was the level of technology available at the time that had let the whole project down.”  
“And you think I might have one of these implanted in my brain?” Duncan asked.  
“It would explain how you have no memory of being Mitch Morgan. Most standard amnesia patients eventually regain at least some, if not all of their previous memories when they have had a head injury. They often suffer flashbacks of people they can't at first recognise or places they don't remember. But I've never read about or heard of a case where they didn't remember at least something of their former life, even if just bit and pieces. Have you had any of those?”  
Duncan shook his head. “No. Not even a dream.”  
“The Shepherds have proved to be completely unscrupulous, immoral and unethical in their dealings, so putting a bio drive into a man's head would not be a big surprise,” Jamie spat in disgust.  
“They thought to use what your Mitch knew for their own purposes.” Duncan looked bleakly at Jamie. “If he hadn't been such a brainiac, I'd be dead and dust by now.”  
She got up and went to him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. “None of that matters now. We none of us know how long we have.”  
Dariela and Abe exchanged a look, Abe sinking down into one of the chairs, his hand absently scratching behind the ears of their patient pet who had been waiting for some attention. Dariela noted Duncan watching the dog over the top of Jamie's head.   
“Oh, yeah. This is Pizza, he's Isaac's dog, but we couldn't leave him behind...”  
Jamie eased out of the hug and turned, crouching down and holding out her hand for Pizza to sniff, before he submitting to being made a fuss of by one of the new humans. “He's adorable.”  
Dariela gave a tight smile. “Not sure how he's going to manage on the plane, but we have a litter tray we can set up in the truck bay and we'll clean up any messes he makes.”  
“That's fine, we'll manage. I'll go check on the ground crew, see how long before we can fly out of here. Do you have an address for Jackson?”

Once the Kenyatta's were settled and the gear brought up to the lab, they held a council of war to discuss what they would do about getting Isaac back, finding a solution to the hybrid crisis and explore a cure for the sterility problem. Jamie had been in contact with her various sources to see if they had a lead on where the children were being held and was awaiting replies, but like all things, it would take time. The problem of the hybrids was where Abe stepped in, telling about his discovery regarding the blood Jackson had sent, and the reaction once it was exposed to normal room temperature. If they were able to get samples of all the hybrids they might be able to find a common weakness and exploit it to create a toxin or virus to kill off the emerging creatures. The sterility issue would need to wait its turn for attention, but Abe had some ideas about that as well. 

Jamie called Clem to find out what was happening in their corner of the world. As luck would have it the local authorities had managed to neutralize the beacon and stop it activating in time. The nest had been found and sealed off, the local IADG just waiting on the boffins to come up with a way to kill off the toxic spores before they could go ahead and destroy the nest. It meant, for the time being, Clem and Max were safe. Max also reassured Jamie that if the worst happened, he was ready to transport Clem, plus supplies, to a nearby island for safety, if things escalated.  
Satisfied that Clem was in good hands, Jamie turned her attention to the immediate problems. She tried to carry on as normal around Duncan, ignoring the looks from Dariela and Abe, not giving up expressing herself with small touches and affectionate looks between them, although they did tone down their lovemaking now they had visitors aboard, listening in.

Jackson was contacted, his location given as Portland, Oregon on the west coast, as part of a resettlement programme to help in the evacuation of people left behind after the first wave was taken beyond the barrier wall. Work had continued on the momentous project and was nearing completion, providing an effective physical boundary to keep the hybrids from spilling into the flatlands east of the Rockies. It meant that in a few years the west coast from Canada down to Mexico would be uninhabitable, overrun with packs of Razorbacks and other breeds of hybrids.

It would be a risk flying into the international airport on the banks of the Columbia River as it was closed to all private jets, only allowing authorized aircraft involved in the evacuations to land and use facilities. Jamie chose to adopt a “fly in, answer questions later” policy, leaving Ann Arbor for the west coast the day after picking up the Kenyatta's. It was a shortish flight, only four and a half hours, but they made the most of their time.   
The search for the missing children was headline news, everyone trying to figure out who and where they'd been taken, and why? Possibly only the small group of people on the plane were in possession of all the facts of the case, apart from the abductors themselves. Reiden Global was under siege from twenty-four-hour protests, plus there'd been death threats on Leanne Duchovny and bomb threats on all Reiden offices around the world. It was some vindication for Jamie that Reiden was at long last the dirty word on everyone's lips. Reiden's stock shares plummetted and official inquiries were being formed to look into their recent history and part played in the animal mutation crisis involving the mother cell fiasco. Leanne herself had vanished, confirming in Jamie's mind that she was the Falcon, so sought after for so long by the Shepherd hunters. That she had vanished now was too much of a coincidence. With the Shepherd organization in disarray, Leanne and Abigail were the only remaining members with the power and resources to carry on their work. Both women were on every 'most wanted' list in all law enforcement stations in every country, regardless of nationality. Leanne's face was plastered across the internet, along with a sketch of Abigail, supplied by Duncan as she was the last time he'd seen her. Mansdale had also produced a sketch as part of his plea bargaining to avoid the death penalty. It matched Duncan's pretty closely. That now joined Leanne's image doing the rounds, both woman now fugitives from anyone with a camera phone.

Part Five – The Plane, Portland, Oregon.

They landed at Portland, despite the tower's protests and parked up in a disused part of the field for the time being until they were able to convince the airport authority they had an important reason for being there. As part of the Pacific Evacuation Taskforce, Jackson, or Dylan as he was known, had some sway with the authorities and managed to clear a path through the red tape to allow the plane and his friends access on and off the outlying runways. 

Jamie lowered the ramp as Jackson arrived in a four-by-four with a couple of airport police vehicles for escort. Giving Jackson a hug, she passed on to speak to the police, leaving Jackson to board the plane and greet his other friends, as well as discover the truth about Mitch. Jamie glanced at the woman still seated in the vehicle Jackson had arrived in, but passed on by, preferring to allay the ruffled feathers of the airport police. While she laid out the reasons why the plane was on their runway without permission, Jamie shamelessly brought her participation in the cure for the animals in to play, along with the part the people with her on the plane played in that success story. Once she had provided the proof of her identity, the police were agog to hear that the same dream team were back to help with the hybrid crisis. With the blessing of the Portland Airport police, Jamie was able to return to the plane, passing the woman still sat in the car.   
“Hi, I'm Jamie.”  
“Hi.” The woman appraised her then smiled. “I'm Tessa. I'm with Dylan.”  
“Why don't you come in, he's going to be awhile.”  
“Okay. So he wasn't lying when he said he knew Jamie Campbell, the author, and celebrity.”  
Jamie waved her hands in a dismissive gesture. “Nope. That's me.”  
Together they walked up the ramp and into the loading bay. Raised voices drew them into the body of the plane and into the laboratory, where a noisy reunion was taking place. Jackson was hugging Duncan to within an inch of his life, the older man looking a little taken aback after his lukewarm welcome by the Kenyatta's. Jamie just grinned, sending Duncan a wink and drawing the woman from the truck to the fore.  
“Dylan? I think you forgot someone?”  
Jackson looked up, his expression puzzled then dismayed. “Tessa, sorry love, I was so surprised to see everyone and this plane...c'mere.” He held out his hand and drew the woman to his side. “Everyone? This is Tessa, she's been my partner in crime searching for evacuees and chasing down hybrids.” His glance down at the blond was full of affection, her glance up at him torn between a similar expression of endearment and exasperation.   
“Dylan, as usual, is exaggerating. We are more likely chased by hybrids than doing the chasing. His lions are the most impressive...”  
“Lions?” Abe queried. Everyone's eyes swiveled to Jackson.   
He shrugged. “I have a group of ex-circus and zoo lions that only needed a bit of training to become a very good pride of hybrid hunters. No biggy...”  
Dariela looked worried. “You didn't bring them with you?”  
Jackson laughed, giving Tessa a squeeze with his arm around her shoulders. “No, Dariela. They normally hunt for food around our compound outside of town. When I need them, I just whistle.”  
Jamie clapped her hands to get their attention. “Tessa, make yourself comfortable. I just need to steal Dylan for a few moments to catch him up. Dylan?”  
Jamie started up the stairs, Jackson following her, still glancing around the plane, taking it all in.  
“You didn't change much. Was it like this when you bought it?”  
“No way. The previous owner was into goth death metal, not quite my scene, so I had it put back to the way it was.”  
“Like a memorial.”  
Jamie cast him a glance over her shoulder. “Sort of.” She carried on through to the upstairs lounge and made her way behind the kitchen counter. “Drink?”  
“I'd rather hear how Mitch got back...”  
“Long story, not the best time. When are you going to tell Tessa the truth?”  
“Um...never. Is that an issue?”  
“Give the woman credit. It won't take her long to figure it out, given you're surrounded by the rest of the 'team'. Even if she hasn't read my books, once we start talking about our objectives, she'll catch on pretty damn quick.”  
Jackson leaned on the bench and hung his head. “You're right, she's smart and is probably putting two and two together right now.”  
“Then better it comes from you than she finds out by accident. I'll send her up here to speak to you.”  
“What? Now?”  
“Unless you were planning on not reforming the band and going back to evacuating people, rather than saving the world...again.”  
“Shit.” He raked his fingers through his hair, neatly cornered. “Fine. Send Tessa up, but don't be surprised if she decides to shoot me!”  
“That's alright, we have two doctors here to patch you up.”

Jamie went down the stairs and sent Tessa up to speak to Jackson, the rest of them retreating to the downstairs lounge to wait for the fireworks. They weren't long in coming, the pair above venting quite heatedly, Jackson sounding equally angry and conciliatory, Tessa veering more towards outrage tinged with astonishment. It went quiet after a short while and then there were footsteps on the stairs. Jackson appeared looking the worse for wear.  
“Well?” asked Abe.  
“She's thinking about it.” He sat down heavily in one of the vacated chairs. “If she decides to walk, I might just follow her. We have a good thing going between us...” Jackson covered his eyes and slumped into the cushions.   
Jamie signaled to Dariela and the two women made their way up the stairs to the lounge area.  
Tessa was sitting on the sofa, staring out of the window, obviously thinking. At Jamie's knock, she looked up, giving the two woman a wan smile.   
“Guess you've come to reason with me?”  
“No. Just to keep you company and answer any questions you might have,” Jamie told her.  
“I read your books, you know. I thought there were really good.”  
“Thank you. Jackson...er...Dylan said you mean an awful lot to him.”  
Tessa screwed up her face. “Oh, for God's sake, call him Jackson, that's his real name.”  
“Okay. Did he tell you why he had to change his name?”  
Tessa looked down at her hands. “He tried to, but I kinda shouted him down.”  
Jamie glanced at Dariela, then took a deep breath. “It was my fault. He was in my book, as we all were, but when they were looking for someone to blame for the whole sterility crisis, they first blamed it on Robert Oz, Jackson's father. But he was dead, so they quite wrongly tried to blame Jackson, purely by association, not proof. He had to disappear to avoid a show-trial that would have seen him charged with crimes against humanity!”  
Tessa looked suitably shocked. Jamie continued her narrative.   
“So, I arranged to wipe his image off the internet meaning anyone looking for him wouldn't have the right face for the name, while Dariela and Abe got new paperwork for him to change his name to Dylan Green. He then decided to take himself off to the west coast, with some idea of finding out where the hybrids were coming from, but obviously ended up with the evacuation group instead.”  
Tessa nodded. “Well, that explains a lot. Did he used to have something to do with animals?”  
Dariela spoke up. “He used to work as a safari guide in Botswana, with my husband, Abraham.”  
“Oh. That's how he knows his way around lions.”  
“Well, actually that's even new to us,” Jamie added. “So...are you going to stay?”  
Tessa looked at the two women. “What are you planning on doing?”  
Jamie exchanged a glance with Dariela. “Oh, the usual. Kill the hybrids, cure sterility, save the world. No biggy.”

Duncan looked up at the ceiling when a peel of feminine laughter rang out, three distinct voices in the mix. “I think the committee has come to a decision.”  
Jackson instantly perked up and got to his feet, rubbing his hands down his grubby trousers to dry the nervous sweat on them. Abe raised his glass to Duncan, who did the same then they both downed the contents before the women returned.   
Jamie came through the door first, her expression demure. She made a beeline for Duncan who handed her a glass after exchanging a kiss with her.   
Dariela came next, walking over to her husband and hugging him. Then Tessa appeared, looking a little nervous but not angry at least. Jackson made to walk towards her but she held her hand out to stop him.   
“Not another step, mister. I don't forgive you for lying to me, but I understand the mitigating circumstances behind why you had to change your name.”  
Jackson took a step forward, despite the hand. “So...we're good?”  
Tessa lowered her hand. “I've been convinced it wouldn't be a bad thing if I stayed and helped out.”  
Jackson let out a whoop and darted forward, picking Tessa up and whirling her around. She laughed and held on. “This doesn't mean you get off scot-free! And I'll probably call you Dylan until I get used to Jackson...”   
Jackson slowly put her down. “I don't care what the fuck you call me, just as long as you're here.” He kissed her and the others melted away to give them some privacy. When Jackson and Tessa raised their heads minutes later they found themselves alone. 

They stayed long enough in Portland for Jackson and Tessa to gather up their gear and move into the plane, taking over another of the bedroom suites, leaving only one left unoccupied. Abe had gone back with Jackson and Tessa to the evacuation center, interested to see how things were run. He also got a first-hand demonstration of Jackson controlling the lions when they went to collect a small group of adults holed up by hybrids at a pump station. Abe was amazed that the lions were so responsive to Jackson's seemingly simple commands via a clicker, without the use of rewards afterward. Even more astonishing was the fact the lions were all males, usually solitary creatures in the wild but possibly due to their domestic upbringing, quite happy to work in a group.   
Back at the plane, Jamie sifted through her sources, picking out the bits and pieces of information, putting them together to create a whole, something she had been doing for years, and now was working for her again. Slowly but surely she was building up a profile of the woman they were searching for – Abigail Westbrooke.   
Through the media, the Wool Gatherers and other sources, they now knew her full name which didn't make any sense until they looked into Jackson's father's past and discovered that Westbrooke was the name of a former assistant of Robert Oz. They assumed that Abigail was the product of an affair with the assistant, but somehow the girl had ended up with her natural father for several years before he died saving Jackson, which made her Jackson's half-sister, a revelation that he took hard, mostly on behalf of his dead, but beloved mother, Elizabeth. Jackson and Robert had mostly reconciled just before the man died, helping to create the cure for the animals. The latest news only confused Jackson, not understanding why his father needed to hide the fact of his half-sister from him for so long or why his father had kept the girl by his side during his time with the Shepherds. Where was the girl's mother?  
The media sources dug up several leads about Abigail, but all they confirmed was the woman had no family that they knew of, her mother dead and no evidence of siblings. They hadn't made the connection with Robert Oz or Jackson, which was a blessing for the time being. 

Part Six – The plane, Atlanta, Georgia.

Someone posted a sighting of Abigail, this time in Atlanta. There had been several in the past week, in places all around the country, but the one in Atlanta seemed the most promising and reliable. She had been seen and followed by the informant, one of the many eyes and ears used by the Wool Gatherers to track down elusive Shepherds, who filmed her entering a supposedly abandoned building. When Duncan viewed the footage he confirmed it was Abigail, no doubt about it.   
Another four hours plus flight later and they were landing at Silver Comet Field, at Paulding, northwest Atlanta. It was the closest to the suspected location that was still capable of landing the A380 with room to spare. 

Jamie opted to stay behind, feeling too ill to go, and Tessa offered to remain with her. Dariela was going come hell or high water, she wanted her son back, and the boys were going to keep Dariela from killing any and all that got in her way. Duncan would have been happy to remain behind with Jamie, but he was the only one who could give a positive I.D on Abigail, so he was part of the team. They took the truck, all of them kitted out with body armor and weapons enough to start a war. Having no idea how much resistance they'd encounter they catered for every occasion instead. 

Tessa entered the bedroom to the sounds of Jamie groaning, her body half out of bed as she retched into a bucket beside it. Done for the moment, Jamie sat up and flopped onto her back, moaning.   
“I bought you a washcloth to help freshen up. The boys and Dariela are gone and I shut the loading ramp, so we're all secure.”  
“Thank you,” Jamie whispered, taking the cloth and slowly wiping her face and mouth. She looked washed out and pale. “I wish I knew what this was...I ate the same stuff as you guys, and you're not sick.”  
“Well, you can't be pregnant, so you must have picked up a virus from somewhere. The flu can be pretty nasty.” Tessa sat on the side of the bed opposite to the one with the bucket. “Maybe one of us brought it onboard. You know that kids get bugs all the time, so maybe you caught something off Abe or Dariela?”  
“God, I'm never sick...injured, I'll admit too, but sick? Can I have some water or something?”  
Tessa got up. “I'll get it for you.”  
Jamie settled against the pillows, willing the nausea to go away, her ribs sore from the constant retching without results. She'd seen Duncan looking at her worriedly and couldn't wait for him to get back and tell her it was all going to be alright. She hated being sick, it was so...weak.  
Tessa returned with a carafe and glass of water, setting it down on the bedside table. There was little enough in the bucket, just bile, and spit.   
“I'll go wash this out if you feel okay?” She waited for Jamie to nod, then went into the bathroom, tipping the contents down the toilet, then rinsing it out. When she returned Jamie was laying under the sheets with her eyes closed.   
“Do you want to get some sleep?”  
Jamie flapped a hand at her. “Please stay. I'll only fret about the others if I have nothing to think about. Tell me how you met...er...Dylan?”  
Tessa laughed. “It's okay. Even I call him Jackson now. We first met on a bus traveling west...”

Some time later, unseen by anyone, a figure emerged from a paneled storage recess, unfolding from the confined space like a spider emerging from its burrow. She had crept onboard when the loading ramp was first lowered, having anticipated that the plane would land somewhere on the field. Slithering on her belly, using the Mustang to hide behind before hiding in the compartment, while the others bustled about, coming and going, making enough noise to cover a platoon of soldiers coming aboard.   
The sighting of her had been deliberate, a lure to bring the fly to her. Now the bulk of the team was gone, leaving the fly all alone. Careful not to make any unnecessary noise, Abigail closed the panel and padded to the door leading into the plane. Warily she checked the corridor on the other side, finding it empty. Leaving the loading bay door ajar, she hugged the wall until she could see into the laboratory, finding that empty as well. Hearing a noise from the second level, she cringed back, but nothing appeared on the walkway above, so she ventured out, making her way quickly through the workstations to the rear lounge and the spiral stairs that would take her up to the sleeping quarters. Having crept aboard to follow her father, and planted the cameras at the same time, she was reasonably familiar with the layout of the aircraft. Taking her time to make no noise on the metal spiral staircase, she reached the second floor and paused to listen. 

After telling Jamie the story about how she met Jackson, Tessa left the girl alone to rest and went back to the room she shared with the man she'd known as Dylan Green. She closed the sliding door so she could put on some music and not disturb Jamie, but right now she was sorting through her clothes to see which of them could benefit from being laundered. Something flickered in the corner of her eye and she turned to the door to see the tail end of a shadow pass by. It was unlikely that Jamie had got out of bed, and why would she be creeping about the plane? Curious, Tessa got up and silently slid her door open. Looking down the hallway she could see Jamie's door being slowly closed as if someone didn't want to rouse the sleeper within. Thoroughly alarmed, Tessa returned to her room and armed herself with a large knife and a small pistol. Checking it was loaded, she started back to Jamie's room, pausing to listen before she entered.

Jamie awoke when someone poked her shoulder roughly. Still groggy, she blinked up at the person leaning over her bed. She blinked again to clear her blurry vision and saw the business end of a gun pointed at her head. Dammit, this was becoming a habit.   
“Who are you?”  
“Get up, bitch...you're coming with me.”  
Jamie inched herself up the pillows to rest her back against the headboard. “If you'd taken the time to notice, there's a bucket next to the bed and I will probably start throwing up again shortly.”  
The woman moved back a step. “You're sick? What is it?”  
Jamie frowned. “I don't know...a virus?”  
“Never mind. Get your bony ass out of the bed and put something on your feet, you're going for a walk.”  
“I can barely see straight, let alone walk anywhere. Why do you want me? What did I do to you?”  
Abigail could feel the time passing, trickling away, each second bringing the possibility of the men returning. “Never mind all that, get out of the fucking bed, you cunt, or I'll shoot you!”

Tessa went to slide the door open when something bumped against her leg. Looking down, she saw Pizza staring up at her, his tongue lolling out, probably wondering what game the human was playing. Tessa tried to wave the dog away, but he just sat down on the floor and wagged his tail back and forth, looking hopeful. Tessa rolled her eyes and started to back away from the door, the dog getting up and following her. She re-entered her own room and the dog followed. As soon as he was inside, she slid the door shut, trapping him. Then she resumed her position outside Jamie's bedroom door and listened. Behind her came the muffled barking of Pizza wanting to be let out. 

“What's that?” Abigail heard a distant sound like a dog barking.   
“Probably Pizza, Abe and Dariela's dog.”  
“You have a dog on the plane?”  
“It belongs to Isaac, their son, the boy you had kidnapped so you could experiment on him?”  
Abigail sneered. “You should be thanking me. The boy will be immune to the hybrids, they won't attack him now. I saved him.”  
“Like you saved Mitch?” Jamie shot back. “What did you do to steal his memories away? Did you put something in his head?”  
“So you've met Charles Duncan. I did wonder if you'd killed him, but obviously not.” She glanced around the room. “Is he one of those on this plane? I thought he had just gone missing, but if he's in your clutches, I'll just have to terminate him, instead.”  
Jamie looked suitably alarmed. “What do you mean, terminate him?”  
Abigail giggled. “You don't know about the bio-drive in his head? It's an ingenious device, a project that was tested some years ago and initially an abject failure, but time and technology allowed me to tweak it a bit and I put it in his head, thus creating Charles Duncan. Neat, don't you think?”  
“You sent him to kill me...you turned Mitch into an assassin!”  
Abigail snorted. “Not a very good one. You're still alive.”  
“Is that why you're here, just to kill me?”  
“You're the reason all my plans are being overturned. It was you, not Mansdale that told them where to find the beacons, the nests. You are the reason all the Shepherds are behind bars or dead. You are the reason Charles didn't come back to me!” Abigail raged, the gun wavering as her blood pressure spiked.   
Jamie could feel bile rising in her throat, her face turning grey and sweaty as she fought the rising nausea. “I'm going to be sick!” Unable to prevent the inevitable, Jamie bent forward over the edge of the bed and threw up what little water she'd managed to swallow earlier. Abigail jumped back with a noise of disgust. Tessa chose that moment to slide the door open and throw her knife, impaling Abigail in her gun arm, the weapon discharging harmlessly into the bed, missing Jamie who was still bent over the bucket. Pizza started to go crazy, barking his head off, the sound masking the return of the others. 

Duncan and the others were just getting out of the truck when they heard the gunshot. Not waiting for them to react, Duncan jumped the stairs and ran into the plane. Seeing nothing down below he headed up the stairs, two at a time, Abe, and Jackson on his heels. They arrived a few seconds after the event, Tessa kicking away the gun while Abigail clutched at her bloody arm, the knife still protruding. Jamie lay sideways on the bed and for a second Duncan thought she'd been shot, his heart stopping for several beats before she moved, proving she was alive. He advanced on Abigail, murder in his eyes, but Abe held him back, allowing Jackson to approach the injured woman, his half-sister.   
Abigail tried to scoot backward, away from him, her teeth bared, but Jackson crouched down to better look at the wound.   
“You'll bleed to death if that's not taken care of,” Jackson reasoned, meeting her eyes, looking for evidence of his father in her features.   
“So, the prodigal son returns. How does it feel to know you killed your own father?” Abigail sneered, hatred in her eyes.   
Jackson winced but merely turned his head to speak to Tessa. “Can you get something so I can bind her arm and stop the bleeding?” Tessa nodded and left the room.   
Abe had let go of Duncan, who went to the bed and picked up Jamie to carry her out of the room and away from any potential harm. Jamie felt too wretched to protest and let herself be taken to the spare room. Poor Pizza was going crazy, so Duncan went and let him out, the dog instantly rushing down the hall to the bedroom where everyone was gathered.   
Back with Jamie, Duncan turned up the heating to warm up the air in the unused room and slipped off his coat before sitting on the side of the bed. Jamie lay against the pillows, too exhausted to care any more, giving up her limp hand for him to hold while she drifted into a light doze.  
Sometime later he looked up to see Dariela standing in the doorway.   
“They've locked her up in the cage down in the lab. The knife wound was largely superficial and Abe bound it up for her. The authorities are on their way to arrest her. How's Jamie?”  
“Sleeping. How's Isaac?”  
“With his dad and Pizza. They're both out taking the dog for a well-earned walk. Isaac seems to be fine. They've been looking after the children quite well, only feeding them that drug you made at breakfast, it seems. Apart from wanting to go home and missing us, he seems okay.”  
Duncan nodded. “In the right doses, the drug won't hurt him, but keep an eye on him, all the same.”  
Dariela gave a quiet laugh. “We will don't you worry. I think I hear voices, it's probably the police to collect Abigail.”  
“Tell them she's smart and not to take any chances. She will escape if the opportunity is made available.”  
Dariela smiled grimly. “I'll pass that along.”

Abigail Westbrooke was handed into the custody of the local FBI under high security to await transportation. The woman refused to speak to anyone, not even a lawyer when one was made available. The premises, where the children were found, was thoroughly searched but produced nothing in the way of evidence that Abigail had ever been there, other than her being found in the general area. Instead, she was charged superficially with threatening to kill Jamie Campbell aboard her own plane, the FBI agents scheduled to come back and question Jamie about the incident the next day.   
Dealing with the FBI was left to Abe and Dariela, as it was their son recovered from the facility. The other children were being processed, in readiness for their return to their parents as soon as possible while the press buzzed around everyone looking for an exclusive. 

For a few moments, the team could breathe a little easier knowing that one of the most wanted people in the world, the woman responsible for the creation of the beacons and hybrid nests, was at last in custody.


	8. Dream Team in Action

Part One – The Plane, Silver Comet Field, at Paulding, Atlanta, Georgia.

Duncan sat in the chair and tried to keep still. Abe was behind him with the ultrasound wand, carefully passing it over his patient's head, peering closely at the images to see something that he hoped wouldn't be there, but suspected it was. Sure enough, he saw a shape appear, tiny, white and cylindrical on the screen. Abe made several passes, taking snapshots as he went to show Duncan after he'd finished.   
“You've gone very quiet,” Duncan murmured, his head still but his eyes darting around the room.  
“Nearly finished, just one more second. There, all done. You can put your glasses back on now.” Abe handed him a bunch of paper towels to wipe the worst of the gloop off his head. To allow the ultrasound to function at its best, Duncan had shaved off all of his head hair down to a stubble all over. The scar indicated clearly enough where the operation had taken place, but there was no point in shaving half his head, so the lot came off leaving him with a buzz cut. Despite seeing the scar, Abe had been thorough and scanned all of his head, but coming back to where the scar was, finding the bio drive behind where the scar marred his scalp. Now they both turned to look at the snapshots Abe had taken.  
“There it is.” Abe pointed to the white shape on the screen.  
“How do we get it out?”  
“I'm not sure we should. Positioned where it is, one wrong move and you could be severely worse off than you are now.”  
“You said yourself that the subjects who were guinea pigs on that first trial all died.”  
“I did. But that was within the first few days after the operation, you have been living with this for years without any discernible side effects.”  
“Other than not being who I'm supposed to be,” Duncan retorted.  
“That didn't change the way Jamie felt about you. Another operation could endanger your life and take away all that you have now. The brain is robust, but one wrong move and you could lose more than just your personality, all your memories up to this moment could also go. Do you really want to forget us all, forget Jamie?”  
Duncan shook his head. “I just...I just don't want to drop dead on her because of this...bio drive.”  
Abe put a hand on his shoulder. “My friend, you have already died once, and now you have been given a second chance. None of us know how long we have, Jamie knows this. I am sure she would rather have you now, for however long you have together, than risk losing you and all you mean to each other. Whatever you decide, you must include her in that decision.”  
“Yeah. Thanks, Abe.” He got up to go wash the remains of the sticky stuff off his shorn head. Abe turned back to stare at the shape on the screen showing the bio drive snuggly tucked away in Duncan's brain. 

Jamie was sitting in the upstairs lounge, a laptop at her elbow and the television showing the latest news playing, muted, in the background. She looked up when he entered. “That's a new look. Any special reason?”  
Duncan ran his hands over his stubbly head and gave her a lopsided grin. “Would you believe I was overdue for a haircut?”  
Jamie snorted her disbelief. “I'd more likely believe you wanted to see what the bio drive looked like in your head.”  
“Yeah, well, wasn't hard to find with a scar like a sort of 'x' to mark the spot where they went in.”  
Jamie shut the laptop and shifted to face him better. “What did Abe have to say?”  
He seated himself beside her. “He recommends leaving it where it is. He suggests it's not like the others because I've been living with it in there for years, whereas the others failed within days.”  
“Good advice, if you ask me.”  
Duncan frowned at her. “But if it is taken out, you could have your Mitch back...”  
“Or it could fry what is left of your brains and I'll be left with a vegetable. No thank you, I'm quite happy with what I have right now. I'm happy with you, as you are, without any changes. More importantly, I'm happy that you are alive.”  
Duncan stared back at her, noting her fierce expression offset by the sheen of tears in her eyes.   
“Fine. No meatball brain surgery then.”  
“Thank you. One of us being sick is quite enough for me to handle.”  
He reached for her hand. “Jamie, you're not sick...”  
“Tell that to the bucket I say hello to every couple of hours,” she retorted sharply.  
“I wasn't sure before, but I am now.”  
“You know what it is? For God's sake, tell me?”  
He pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed the knuckles. “You're pregnant.”  
She stared back at him wide-eyed, and open-mouthed, then she snatched her hand back and covered her face. “How can you be so cruel? You know that's not possible.”  
“I know because of that ultrasound we did. There is nothing wrong with everything inside of you, Jamie.”  
She dropped her hands and glared at him. “That doesn't mean diddlyshit. The human race is sterile, men and women. I can't have just spontaneously become unsterile.”  
“But the animals aren't sterile, and more importantly, the hybrids aren't sterile.”  
“What are you saying?”  
“Look, let Abe do another ultrasound, or just take a blood test. If you're not pregnant it might shed some light on what is causing you to get sick.”  
“Now you're making sense. I'll go see Abe.”

Jamie lay with her eyes closed, breathing slowly while Abe pushed the wand around her abdomen, doing what Duncan had done not that long ago. Duncan stood at Abe's shoulder, watching the screen. Abe suddenly looked up and met his eyes, the big man's thin eyebrows climbing upwards in shocked surprise. Duncan only grimaced and nodded. Abe turned back to his patient.  
“Jamie?”  
“Still here.”  
“Duncan is right. You are pregnant, about ten to eleven weeks by my calculation. Everything looks normal...”  
“Except I'm not supposed to be able to get pregnant! Care to explain that?”  
Abe glanced at Duncan then back to the woman on the gurney. “Um...congratulations?”

Jamie lay curled up on the bed, churning through her head the implications of being pregnant when all around her were unable to conceive. The only positive she could see right now was she wasn't dying of some ghastly disease, she was just expecting a baby – Duncan's baby. It went some way to explaining her horrible sickness, and other symptoms that she now could attribute to the source. Mind you, anyone who named it morning sickness was fucked in the head because the nausea didn't confine itself to just the morning for her, oh no. Where were the feelings of bliss? Of fulfillment? That 'walking six feet off the ground' sensation when you discover you are carrying the proof of your love? It seemed she'd somehow been stiffed and only got the horrible sickness, lack of appetite, tender breasts and a tendency to cry at the drop of a hat. Someone knocked on the bedroom door.  
“Come in, I promise not to bite!” she shouted, feeling a sudden urge to snarl. She turned on her back to see Dariela and Tessa entering the room, Tessa sliding the door shut behind her.   
“Hey,” Jamie greeted them, her mood instantly lifting. Dariela and Tessa both sat on the side of the bed, shifting about until they were facing her. The women exchanged a glance before Dariela started to speak.  
“Abe told us. How are you feeling?”  
“Weird, relieved it's not something worse, shocked, terrified...take your pick.”  
“Did either Abe or Duncan give a reason how it's happened?” Tessa asked.   
Jamie shook her head. “I think Duncan has a theory, something to do with the hybrids, but he hasn't given me all the details yet.”  
“That's pretty much what we all are thinking at this stage.”  
Jamie pushed herself more upright and waved at Dariela. “Well, don't leave me in the dark? What is the theory?”  
“That when Mitch was attacked by the hybrids, similar to when Jackson was bitten by that mutating dog, it affected a change in him. The guys think that maybe the hybrid DNA that would have entered his system when they bit him, may have reversed the effects of the sterility gas so that he was once more fertile.”  
“But how does that affect me? I wasn't bitten by a hybrid?”  
“No. But you did make love to one, or a person affected by one,” Tessa added. “Any exchange of bodily fluids will pass along DNA material, as well as viruses and infectious agents.”  
Jamie went white. “Is my baby going to be a hybrid?” she asked faintly, visions of spines and deformed limbs making her vision grey out. Dariela started to curse under her breath and Tessa hopped off the bed to go to the door.   
“I'm sorry, I think we fucked it up...” Tessa told the man waiting outside.   
Duncan pushed past her and went to the bed. He pulled Jamie upright and tapped her cheek. “Hey, don't you faint on me now, you have to listen.”  
Jamie clutched at him, her eyes darting from side to side, tears spilling over as her fears took hold. “Is our baby going to be a monster?”  
Duncan held her tighter. “No, no...it's perfect, absolutely perfect. Whatever happened, it's not a bad thing, in fact, it could mean the solution to the whole sterility crisis.”  
Jamie pressed herself against him, listening to his heartbeat, willing the panic to recede, his words rumbling in her ears but making little sense.  
“There's nothing to worry about, believe me. Our baby looks perfectly normal and the sickness will pass, I promise. Are you listening to me?”  
Jamie nodded, not willing to let go of his warmth and the steady thump of life under her ear.   
“Good.” Duncan continued. “Because I don't want you to worry, you're not alone, I'm here, Abe is here, Jackson, Dariela, and Tessa are all here and not going anywhere. Whatever happens you're safe here with me, on the plane.”  
“What about when I get fat and can't see my feet?”  
Duncan chuckled. “Then I'll just have to hold up a mirror so you can see they're still there.”  
Jamie gave a shuddering sigh. “What if the baby is....what if...?”  
“Shhh. There is no 'what if '. We'll worry about that when the time comes. Okay?”  
Her reply was muffled against his shirt. “Okay.”  
“Want me to stay?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then move over, 'cos I'm about to fall off if you don't make room.”  
Jamie scooted over and he settled himself beside her, gathering her up again until she stopped shifting and arranging herself against him.   
“Better now?”  
“Can we stay this way for the next six months or so?”  
He grinned and kissed the top of her head. “Whatever the pregnant lady wants.”

Jamie entered the room to face her friends, embarrassed at her behavior.  
“I'm sorry for all the fuss I've made.”  
Her friends instantly all spoke at once, telling her not to worry, that she was entitled to make any fuss she wanted, that nobody noticed and so on. Duncan got her seated comfortably then went to the bar for a stiff drink.   
“I think there is one thing we need to discuss,” Jackson started. Dariela snorted, Tessa rolled her eyes and Jamie raised an eyebrow. “Just one? I would think we had a whole host of things up for discussion.   
Jackson shook his head. “No, you misunderstand. We need to keep your pregnancy secret, at least until the baby is born and you are both fine.”  
“Your reasoning?” Jamie asked.  
“If you thought the children being stolen was big news, think what will happen when the first woman in nearly a decade is discovered pregnant? Not only would you become smothered by the press, it would make you a target for every end-of-the-world crackpot wanting to kill the baby, plus every scientist will want to examine you inside and out for the next six months, every day, every hour. You'd probably be secreted away and put into isolation, that's if the dark underground doesn't get their hands on you to sell you and your baby to the highest bidder!”  
Jamie gave a nervous laugh. “For fuck's sake, now you're just trying to frighten me.”  
Jackson shook his head. “I wish I was, so, for all those reasons I'm suggesting that the pregnancy is hidden from anyone outside our group. You have Abe available to take care of any of your prenatal care and the delivery, along with Duncan.” Jackson looked around at his friends. “Anyone disagree or have anything else to say regarding this issue?”  
Everyone in the room shook their heads. “Okay then. Jamie? Get used to wearing baggy clothes if you go out of the plane. To the outside world, nothing has changed, but you won't be able to go to any society shindigs until after you deliver.”  
Jamie gave him a sloppy salute. “Aye, aye, mon Capitaine!”

The next day, during a period when Jamie was feeling fine, they had a roundtable discussion about their next move regarding the hybrids.  
Abe spoke up. “I would suggest we find a nest and take samples of each of the hybrids Abigail created. We already have a sample from one, the woolly rhinoceros, so we need to identify the others and work up DNA profiles for each.”  
“Fine. Where do we look first?” Tessa asked.   
“Won't there be one here, in Atlanta?” queried Jamie.  
Duncan looked up the database, putting it on the large television screen. “There's one in the downtown area. The beacon hasn't been activated, probably because Abigail was using the city as her base for the children and the tests.”  
“If we get in touch with the IADG office they should be able to supply us with environmental suits,” said Dariela.  
“Will they protect whoever's wearing them from the spores?” Jamie asked.  
“Only for a short time,” Duncan told them. “The spores, if not neutralized, will eat into the seals of the suit so you only have a maximum of ten minutes to get in and get out. There would need to be an alkaline shower set up to wash off any spores on the suits.”  
“Do we know how many hybrids we'll be dealing with?” Abe asked.   
Duncan shrugged. “As far as I am aware, there are the razorback wolves, the woolly rhino, the vultures, the squid, the snakes, and Abendegos.”  
“What's an Abendegos?” Abe queried, looking confused, as most of the rest did.   
Duncan explained. “It was a personal project of Abigail's. She took an ordinary chimp baby and spliced it with her own DNA, creating a human-ape hybrid. She also injected it with a serum they, the Shepherd had been working on, but abandoned, when it caused ethical questions to be raised. But Abigail, never one to let ethics or morality slow her down, carried on the experiment and created Abendigos. He is neither human, nor an ape. He can understand and perform sign language, and also speak words to a limited degree, not just mimicking, but using them in context. He'd quite remarkable.”  
“You've seen him? Interacted with him?” Jackson asked.  
“Several times. I saw him a couple of months back when I waylaid Jamie's plane and took it to Mexico.” He looked over at Jamie with an apologetic look. “He's kept at a hybrid zoo on the Yucatan.”  
“God. Did anyone else have an instant flashback to the Planet Of The Apes movies?” Tessa asked.  
“Original or recent?” Jackson wanted to clarify.  
“Original.” Tessa sent him a look as if there was anything else.  
“Except Abendegos is engineered through DNA splicing and biological manipulation. Milo, in the third Apes movie - Escape, was the child of talking chimpanzee's Cornelius and Zira,” Duncan chipped in, everyone turning to stare at him. He stared back, one eyebrow raised. “What?”  
“I never knew that Mitch was such a classic sci-fi geek!” Jackson exclaimed.  
Duncan frowned, then shrugged. “Guess he must have been.”  
Jamie was staring at him, intrigued. “You do realize you just accessed a purely Mitch memory just now?”  
“Is that a problem?”  
Jamie shook her head. “Not at all. Maybe it's just an indication that not all his memories were so neatly obliterated. Maybe they were only suppressed...”  
“And now are popping out to say hi?” Duncan argued.   
“We are still so ignorant about how the mind works and repairs itself. Anything is possible,” Abe offered as an explanation.   
Jackson rapped on the table top. “But back to what we were talking about. So am I right in thinking we approach the local IADG, get access to the nest. Get samples of the hybrids, then start experimenting while flying to Mexico to get a blood sample from Abendegos?”  
“Sounds like a plan. Duncan, you'll have to sit out the nest trip, your identity needs to stay as secret as Jamie's pregnancy,” said Jackson.   
Duncan shrugged dismissively. “Fine by me. As Jamie won't be going either, I can stay here and rub her feet.” He sent Jamie a smug look. She just rolled her eyes and pretended not to notice his wink. 

Part Two – unknown location, Atlanta, Georgia.

The IADG officer for the Atlanta area practically fell on their necks in gratitude when the team arrived and proposed their plan. The nest was in a block of abandoned factory buildings on the edge of the city. As hoped, the IADG were able to supply the suits, breathing masks, chemical shower, plus modified radiation counters to keep a watch on the spore count level in the air. Abe and Jackson would go in to cut down the sample embryo's, while Tessa and Dariela were on standby with a medical team, just in case.   
Both men wore body camera's so those monitoring the exercise could see what the men saw. They both suited up, were thoroughly checked over and then led over to the door into the nest itself. The two men bumped fists, each holding a bag to put embryonic sac's into, then pushed open the doors.

Tessa watched the screen closely. They were some distance from the actual nest in case there was a spore outbreak, the room sealed internally with plastic, the seams welded, giving the impression of a huge oxygen tent. Inside, Tessa monitored the two men's progress through the nest, while Dariela, also suited up, waited with the medical team to wash the men down once they were done.   
The atmosphere was tense, Tessa in company with a team of IADG specialists, as keen as the team to see inside the nest, as well as see the embryos extracted. The minutes ticked by, Tessa watching the ten-minute countdown clock almost as closely as the screens.   
“Five minutes, boys.”  
“We're nearly done.” Jackson's voice came back to her from the speaker. “Just a couple more specimens and we're out of here.”  
“No sightseeing, remember?”  
“Be back before you miss me.”  
Tessa smiled, her nerves jangling when she glanced at the clock and there were only three minutes remaining.   
“Three minutes. Start moving back towards the exit. Don't get distracted.”  
“On our way already.” She saw one of them lift up the spore monitor, the reading showing it was out of the green and into the yellow for concentration.   
“Fuck the time limit, get your butts out of there...NOW!”  
The camera's joggled as the men did their best to run-jog to the exit, Tessa only relaxing slightly when the door was shut behind them and they were under the shower to clean off the spores. 

Part Three – The Plane, Silver Comet Field, Paulding.

Abe was testing the fluid inside the amniotic sacs, while Duncan was creating a DNA profile for each specimen, the two working together in harmony to uncover the secrets of each creature. After two days of steady scientific exploration, they presented their results. Everyone was gathered around the large table upstairs, eyeing the big screen expectantly. Even Isaac and Pizza were there, although more interested in playing with the extensive Leggo set on the floor than paying attention to the adults. Abe was up first.   
“I have discovered a number of interesting things just from the amniotic fluid surrounding the hybrids. It is a highly concentrated serum of proteins, amino acids, plasma and everything you'd want to support an embryo. It is also very special in several ways. If the molecules are agitated by sound waves they will start the process of aggressive hypergrowth within the embryo itself. The cells multiply at a phenomenal rate, preparing the hybrid to eventually hatch into an almost adult state. Think of a butterfly hatching out of a cocoon. It is all folded up into a tiny package, but once exposed to the air and sunshine, it expands into a fully grown adult within minutes. Well, same principle. And there are easily a thousand of these 'eggs' in that one nest alone.”  
His audience made no comment, digesting the information and its implications. Abe continued.  
“Each of these embryos is also capable of replicating itself from a single drop of blood. I haven't had the time to figure out how that is accomplished, but I've seen it happen with my own eyes, so I know it is possible.”  
“Is there a specific frequency of audio waves to wake them up?” Jamie asked.  
“Yes. Very specific. In fact, it is a pulse at a certain frequency beyond human hearing that agitates the cells sufficiently to start the hatching and hypergrowth process.”  
“And if those beacons don't activate, the nest remains dormant?”  
“As we currently understand it, yes.”  
“So if the beacon never goes off, the hybrid embryos would die after a period of time?”  
“That, we don't know. It's possible that the embryos have a finite gestation period with or without the beacon to activate the growth cells. It would take extensive testing to establish that as fact.”  
They all sat there, staring at the picture Abe painted. Duncan cleared his throat, judging it time to make his own presentation.   
“While Abe has been working on the eggs, I've been looking at the DNA to see if there's a pattern or similarity between the different breeds. What I've found is that we are missing two hybrids from our collection.”  
“Two?” Jackson queried. “I thought we were missing just the sample from...er...Abendigos?”  
Duncan nodded. “I thought that too. But when I put the profiles together, it was clear they formed a pattern.” He worked at the laptop and an image appeared of the different DNA results, showing a pattern in each one, having a different section highlighted, but it was obvious there was a gap. “As you can see, there are two spaces in the sequence missing, even if we add Abendegos into one of those gaps, that leaves one other. A missing hybrid.”  
Jackson shook his head. “We got all the ones you said. There were no others different from the ones we bagged up and brought here.”  
“I don't dispute that, I'm saying that there's another hybrid out there that we don't know about.”  
“How do we find it?” Tessa asked, the others nodding in agreement.   
Duncan shrugged. “Mansdale might know about it, Abigail will surely know about it, but if they won't tell us, then we're screwed.”  
“You can't do anything without all of them?” Dariela asked.   
Duncan shook his head. “To make an anti-hybrid anything, I need all the parts of the jigsaw. If a bit is missing, it won't target them all. It's a bit like a recipe, miss out an important ingredient and it's not going to turn out as you expect, it might only half cook, overcook, or stay a liquid all because you missed out one vital ingredient.”  
“Is there anywhere we can find the information? What about Abigail's computer? Or notebook?”  
“Possibly. It's certainly not at the Mexican zoo, just the ones I was expecting are there.”  
“So we have to go question Mansdale,” Jackson stated. “But I think we're going to have to split up. Duncan, Jamie, Dariela, and Isaac fly to the Yucatan and get that sample from the chimp, while Abe, Tessa and I go to question Mansdale about the missing hybrid, then you guys come back and get us.” He looked at the faces around the table. “Any questions?”  
“How do we get to Mansdale?” Abe asked.  
“Through the IADG.”

Part Four – Hybrid compound, Yucatan, Mexico.

Dariela had stayed with the plane, keeping watch over Isaac and Pizza. Jamie and Duncan took the truck and drove to the Shepherd compound. On arrival they found the place deserted, no guards and the gates hanging open. Duncan drove slowly past the empty paddocks, their security gates wide open, the stock inside long gone.   
“What the hell happened here?” Jamie asked.  
“Seems they went out of business.”  
They approached the building where Abendegos was housed. Like everywhere else it was abandoned, the doors wide open.  
“Stay here and lock the doors,” Duncan ordered.  
“I'm coming with you...”  
“No. If Abendegos is loose, then I only have my past association with him to protect me. Stay here.”  
Jamie subsided back into the seat, not happy but seeing the sense in his request. Duncan gave her a reassuring smile and got out of the truck, tucking a gun into the back of his jeans. 

Jamie watched him enter the building, the minutes ticking by as she waited, her eyes darting around the abandoned compound, checking for any movement. In a shorter time than she expected, Duncan was striding out of the building towards the truck. He yanked the door open and climbed into the driver's seat.   
“No Abendegos?”  
“No. He was shipped to a village not far from here, into the care of some people who have been told to wait for further instruction from me.”  
“Okay. Do you know where you're going?”  
“Yeah. Buckle up.”  
He did a u-turn and drove out of the former hybrid park through the open gates. They followed the dirt road until it forked, taking the left turn away from the road leading back to the plane. They bumped over the worsening track, splashing through mud puddles, the greenery lashing against the side windows as the passed by.   
“How far is it?”  
“Not far, look, see?” He pointed and Jamie saw a collection of buildings, ramshackle and half demolished, but a village of some sort. They pulled up to a small cottage, a woman on the front porch getting up from her chair to greet them. She rattled off something, words that sounded vaguely like Spanish. Duncan replied, in the same language, giving his name and asked after Abendegos. The woman smiled broadly and indicated for him to follow. Again, he told Jamie to stay in the truck and lock the door. The woman, he explained, had several sons.  
Jamie watched him follow the old woman around the side of the building and out of sight. A few minutes later and he was back, the old woman no longer with him. He walked around to Jamie's side of the truck.  
“What's the situation?” she asked. Duncan waved at the cottage.  
“They have Abendegos in an old trailer around the back. If you drive around we'll hook it up to the truck and tow it back to the plane, okay?”  
“Okay. I'll follow you.”  
Duncan walked forward and Jamie climbed into the driver's seat, starting up the truck to follow him around the cottage to the trailer. Duncan and some of the old woman's sons cleared the tow bar and waved for Jamie to line up the truck. Within minutes they had the trailer hooked up and secured to the back of the truck. Duncan spoke to the men, handing over a wad of cash before heading for the truck, letting Jamie drive it down the muddy track, back to the airstrip and the plane. 

After several attempts, they got the trailer on board the plane, but only after the sacrifice of Jamie's treasured white Mustang. She only agreed to part with it when Duncan managed to convince her that the sales of her next book, based around their current adventures, would more than pay for a replacement in any color she wanted. Abendegos had been largely quiet throughout the trip back to the plane, although Duncan said he'd become very active when he'd recognized his visitor. Now they had to get the ape out of the trailer and into the cage in the laboratory to better assess his condition and hopefully take a sample. In the end, they flooded the trailer with anesthetic gas to knock the creature out with the minimum of injury to it or anyone else. That done, they used a lifting cradle, similar to an engine lifter, to get Abendegos through the plane and into the cage. There, Duncan was able to look him over and, apart from the loss of weight, the hybrid seemed to be fine. After taking a number of samples, Duncan administered the antidote and quickly left the cage, shutting it behind him. Everything within a six-foot reach of the cage had been removed, the distance marked on the floor with gaffer tape to remind everyone of the hybrid's reach past the bars. He was left to recover with a bucket of water to drink, and an empty one to use as a toilet. Abigail had trained her pet to be toilet trained, it was hoped he remembered that training after all the time he'd been away from her.   
The question of what was to become of the hybrid was on everyone's mind. Because of his size and strength, he had to be contained, but the compound, which had been the best solution, was no longer an option. There was really no place in the world for a semi-human chimpanzee that could speak, at least not one that would provide the enriched, spacious environment he needed. Abendegos was used to much more space than the cage would allow him, so a decision of what to do would need to be addressed without delay. 

“At best, he's a scientific curiosity that could be studied if the right place could be found for him. At worst, he's a scientific freak to be dissected to find out how and why he is the way he is.”  
“That's a horrible fate for any animal. He didn't ask to be messed about with by Abigail.” Jamie was perched on a stool in the lab, next to Duncan's workstation, watching the animal in the cage start to wake up. Apart from helping to get the beast into the cage, she had stood well back while Duncan worked on taking the samples. Abendegos was a frightening looking creature with his hairless, mottled skin and fearsome tusks, and she had no desire to get up close and personal with him.   
“Would you rather he spent his life in a small cage being experimented upon, tormented by scientists and kept away from any sort of pleasure or stimulation?”  
Jamie turned to regard her lover. “You really feel something for him.”  
Duncan glanced at the ape, then back at her. “I feel pity for an animal that has no future.”  
“They have places where they study Gorillas...” she suggested.  
“Gorillas are basically a gentle species and their aggressive behavior is only triggered by certain events, so it's relatively easy to control them. Abendegos is not predictable at all, and his size and ability make him a danger to any human.”  
“So the answer is to euthanize him?”  
Duncan looked grimly at the animal starting to move groggily on the floor of the cage. “I don't know. Someone will have to make that decision, but not today.” He got up and approached the taped line on the floor, pausing there to watch the ape's recovery from the sleeping gas. 

Jamie was shocked when she heard the hybrid speak for the first time. He appeared glad to be out of the trailer, but not glad to be in such a small cage. He called Duncan by name when he was fully awake, reaching through the bars towards where the man stood.  
Duncan than held a kind of conversation with the creature, the animal replying with the hoots and mutterings of an ape, as you'd expect, but also with barely discernible words and hand gestures to emphasize his replies to questions asked. It was the strangest conversation she'd ever seen or heard in her life. Soon enough it was over and Abendegos was drinking thirstily from the water bucket, then using the other bucket before wandering back to his makeshift bed to lay down and sleep off the remainder of the gas.   
Duncan sat down at the computer and started to type. Jamie stared at the creature then back at him.  
“Care to tell me what that was all about?”  
“What you'd expect from someone who was taken out of his home and shoved into a tiny trailer to wait. He was glad to see me, not glad to be still in a cage, happy to be out of the trailer, not happy to be on a plane.”  
“That's....um....quite a conversation.”  
Duncan shrugged. “He's quite the conversationalist when he wants to be.” He went back to typing, putting down his notes on the great ape, before printing out labels to stick on the vials of blood he'd taken before putting them in the fridge.   
“It's just as well you had a second fridge installed, this one is almost full.”  
“I remembered you saying with the old layout that there was never enough fridge and freezer space for specimens, so I went bigger.”  
They sat there, Duncan doing what he was doing, Jamie watching the beast.   
“What are we going to feed him? And how long is he going to be on the plane?”  
“I thought we'd already had this conversation?”  
“No. We talked about what to do with him scientifically. Not, who gets to empty the bucket and how, or what will he eat, and how much? Those little details.”  
“I'm the only person, other than Abigail, that he is familiar with, now he's out of the compound. As for what he eats? Pretty much the same as we do. Apes are largely fruit eaters, but also omnivores, eating insects and bird's eggs, even meat on the odd occasion.”  
“So you get bucket duty?”  
“Yeah. I get bucket duty, happy now?”  
“No. But I'll shut up now and let you work.” Jamie smiled sweetly at him and kissed his cheek before leaving the lab by the main stairs.  
Duncan watched her climb the stairs then lowered his eyes to regard the ape sleeping quietly in his pen. He had a whole lot of questions he wanted to ask, but for now, they'd have to remain unanswered. 

Part Five – Block F, Rose Center, Rikers Island, The Bronx, New York.

Abigail heard the female guard approaching, accompanied by two others. Soon enough they were at her cell door, unlocking it.   
“Visitors for Westbrooke. On your feet, hands on the wall, easy or hard, your choice,” the guard spoke the instructions at a mild roar, the inmate complying as ordered, standing legs apart and hands against the wall, her head turned to view the other two.   
“FBI? Again?”  
“Shut your mouth, Westbrooke, no talking.”  
Abigail pressed her lips together and submitted to being handcuffed and shackled, then led out of the cell, the two agents flanking her. She lifted her head and inhaled deeply, smiling when she smelled and sensed her brother waiting for her. 

Jackson rubbed his hands down his pants, pacing behind the chair. He was back to being Dylan Green for the purpose of the visit to his half-sister. That alone blew his mind, that he had such a person, someone his father had kept secret from him and his mother. For that mercy alone, he could forgive his father a little bit, for protecting Elizabeth from the ultimate betrayal. Now he was to face the woman himself, a tingling sensation and a vague uneasiness his only warning before the door opened and she was there. Her looks were nothing like his own, but he supposed she took after her own mother, as he did his. Her eyes were dark and intense, her full mouth curved in a mocking smile as she was escorted into the room and put into one of the plastic chairs, her hands bound and her feet chained. The female guard left, leaving behind the two FBI agents who stood silent sentries either side of the door.   
“Well hello, brother. How nice of you to visit.” She stared at the two men, passing over Abraham in favor of her handsome brother. “Thank you for asking, I'm recovering well from the knife wound your girlfriend inflicted, wanna see it?”  
“No. We're here to ask you about the hybrids.”  
“Wow. You must have come up in the world to be able to get the FBI to do your bidding?” She leaned forward over the table. “What's your secret?”  
Jackson ignored her question. “We have samples of six of the hybrids...”  
Abigail looked surprised for a second. “Well done, brava. So you've uncovered a nest and taken a peek into my world. Were you impressed? Daddy was impressed, so impressed he was scared of me, scared of my brilliance, my vision.”  
“Our father sterilized the world.”  
“And you mean to undo that? Good luck. By the time you are successful, the world will have aged too far and be unable to reproduce itself in sufficient numbers to support the rest. There are not enough females as part of the last generation to be able to recover the human race. They may prolong the inevitable, but in the end, my hybrids will rule the Earth and see the end of mankind forever.”  
“Is that what this insanity is all about? The downfall of humankind? Erasing the presence of humanity off the Earth's surface?”  
Abigail sat back, looking self-satisfied. “Something like that. Considering how badly man has mismanaged the resources this planet gifted to him for the last few hundred years, the planet will breathe a sigh of relief when the last human biped dies.”  
Jackson looked away, shaking his head. “You're insane.”  
Abraham spoke up. “Have you any idea of the suffering you have caused?  
Abigail tilted her chin and sneered. “No more than what the average human has with his pollution and overcrowding, diseases and deforestation. He was given the richest jewel in the universe, a planet with an atmosphere, water, land, animals, and insects. What does he do? Cuts down the trees that allow him to breathe, kills all the animals that he can't eat so his penis will stay stiff then builds over the land, dams and diverts the water, finally, he poisons the oceans. Not exactly a glowing recommendation for saving them, that I can see.”  
Abraham shook his head, defeated. “We are not here to discuss your politics, we need to know where to find the seventh hybrid.”  
Abigail grinned at them both. “You haven't figured that out? Well, I'm not going to spoil the fun for you, boys. If that's all you've come for, you might as well send me back to my cell.” She held up her hands, pushing back the chair so it fell backward with a clatter. “Whatever you think you can cook up with the six, it will be useless, take it from me! You don't think I'm already several steps ahead of your limited thinking? This has been in the planning for years, not just a few days.” She curled her lip and tossed her head, turning her back on them. “You are boring me, brother dear. Take me back to my home sweet home.” She held out her hands for the FBI agents to take hold of her arms and walk her out of the room, her laughter, as she went, cut off when they shut the door. 

Their interview with Mansdale went little better. The man was sullen and said little, hunched in his chair, facing them across the table.   
“Why the flying fuck would I want to help you assholes now? There's nothing you can do for me, nothing on offer, so why should I bother?”  
Jackson sat back in his chair. He flicked his eyes up at the two FBI agents before staring back at the former Shepherd. “Not entirely true, Mansdale. We do have the power to make your...stay, at Rikers, a bit more comfortable if you co-operate and give us the information we need.”  
Mansdale looked fearful. “Don't take me out of isolation, I can't be in the general population!”  
Jackson stared back, hiding his surprise. “We were thinking more along the lines of getting permission for you to have a television in your room, maybe up your access to the library.”  
Mansdale visibly slumped in relief. “Good, good. Just not the general population. They're animals.”  
Abraham. “What can you tell us about the seventh hybrid?”  
Greg was back to looking scared again. “You did say that Abigail is locked up safe, didn't you?”  
Abraham leaned forward. “Safe and sound. She won't be getting out anytime soon. So, what do you know about the seventh hybrid?”  
“We have the wolf, snake, vulture, rhino, squid, and Abendegos. What are we missing?”  
“Abendegos is the key to it all. She was told not to pursue that line of research, but as usual, she ignored everyone and did it anyway. Noone suspected she would do it, so it was never discovered, just another laboratory animal used for testing and refining what we already had.” Greg leaned forward, his arms on the table. “You know the whole hybrid project was scrapped by Robert Oz? He didn't like how unpredictable the Razorbacks were becoming.  
They were supposed to be next best thing in security, the ultimate guard dog, great military potential and all that. But the shitty things were uncontrollable, breeding like rabbits and attacking anything and everyone. And smart, too smart to submit to any training or restraint. Nasty fuckers.”  
“How does that help us find the seventh hybrid?” Jackson asked. Mansdale sat back, his former animation drained from his features.   
“You don't get it, do you? The reason you never found out about her, or her connection to your father, was because she's...not human. Not anymore.”  
“She's a hybrid?”  
“More than just a hybrid. She took the experiment several steps past that particular line in the sand. It was how she created Abendegos. He is her child, in a warped, mad scientist kinda way. She wasn't satisfied to just splice animal with animal and accept that as the pinnacle of her success, oh no. She wanted to carry the project forward and splice human with animal, to create what? I don't know what the endgame was supposed to be, a race of quasi-human animals? Smarter animals? Anyway, it produced Abendegos, a freak not of nature, but of Abigail's design. Maybe she thought he would be intelligent enough to be trained for military purposes, or just clever enough to exist alongside humans for some warped and twisted reason. It didn't work out that way. He's just a big, ugly brute who can tear you apart as easily as look at you. Who the fuck wants that?”   
Mansdale started to laugh, at first quietly, then louder until it bordered on hysteria. Then, just as abruptly, it stopped and the man stared at his visitors. “You're sure she can't get out?”  
Jackson nodded. “We're sure. We'll make sure you get the tv and the books. You've been a big help.”  
Mansdale grinned back at them. “Cool, that's cool. Thanks, guys.” His eyes swiveled around to where the two FBI agents stood. “I think I'd like to go back to my cell now, I'm kinda tired.”  
Jackson waited until Greg Mansdale was gone before dropping his head to the tabletop and letting out a long sigh. “Fuck, he's so gone.”  
Abraham stared at the closed door, his expression enigmatic. “We need to get a sample from Abigail. She is the seventh hybrid.”  
Jackson lifted his head to stare at his friend. “Yeah. Time to speak to the FBI again.”

Despite the ethical issues involved and Abigails refusal to give a sample of anything, let alone her DNA, the matter was done under the authority of the FBI. She was sedated, sampled and put back in her cell before anyone knew what was happening enough to protest. 

Part Six – Private Airfield, outside New York. 

They were given direction to a private airfield, sufficient for the needs of the plane, but not a commercial hub. Like most non-commercial airfields the runway wasn't legal for the width of the A380 or its wings, but plenty long enough for landing and take off. They arrived at night, directed to park on an apron towards the end of the runway, in front of a huge hanger big enough to house them, if needs be. For the time being, they parked outside. Jackson, Tessa, and Abe soon arrived, Dariela greeting them at the loading ramp with Isaac and the dog for a happy family reunion with his father, while Jackson and Tessa walked passed them into the body of the plane.  
Duncan and Jamie welcomed them back, Jackson putting the new samples into the already crowded fridge to awaiting testing.   
“Was she any trouble?” Jamie asked.   
“No more than expected. Mansdale confirmed she was the seventh hybrid after that is was a piece of cake.”  
“What did you do while the boys were mucking about at the prison?” Jamie asked Tessa.   
“Looked in on a couple of friends, enjoyed some downtime at the hotel. They had a pool and a spa and I had a blast. Got my nails done, too!” She held out her hand, waggling the fingers to show off the ring glittering on her left hand. Jamie looked up at Jackson, who was sitting, grinning at the two women.  
“You got engaged?”  
Tessa held out the ring for Duncan to inspect, his only comment a grunt that it looked a nice quality stone. Jackson nodded.  
“We did. Thought about it, wondered what the hell I was hanging out for, and decided to 'pop the question'. Silly woman said yes.” Jackson couldn't wipe the smile off his face, Tessa grinning back just as goofily.   
Jamie hugged them both, giving Jackson a smacking kiss on the cheek, while Duncan shook his hand and gave Tessa a brief, awkward hug. Abe appeared, knowing the news already, while Dariela took her son and Pizza upstairs to get ready for bed. 

Later, they sat around the conference table, discussing events.  
“The IADG are keen to know what you can do about coming up with something to bring the hybrids under control. It's getting bad out there, much worse than when the animals rebelled. If something isn't done soon, it could become more than the local authorities can deal with, using just the police and local militia.” Jackson pointedly looked at Duncan, who threw up his hands.  
“Look. This isn't something I can rush. Once I can confirm that Abigail and Abendegos are the two missing DNA in the pattern, then I can turn to finding something that will affect them without a domino effect on the rest of the biosphere. That takes time. It has to be effective on two fronts. One to knock them back, like a virus specific to their biology, think what Mixamatosis was to rabbits. The second is to find a way to disperse whatever I create for the maximum effect, without poisoning habitat or water sources. I may end up having to target one species at a time, but whatever does happen, it won't be overnight, or tomorrow or even this week.” He glared back at Jackson, then at everyone else. “If that's not good enough for anyone, they are welcome to invite another genius onboard to carry on the work. I'd gladly step aside and let this headache be somebody else's problem.”  
Jackson dipped his head. “I'm sorry, but we're all under pressure now. The world is looking to us to pull the rabbit out of our collective asses...again. Whatever specialist equipment or diagnostic tool you need, it's yours for the asking. Same applies to you, Abe and your research into the cure for sterility. Whatever you need, Abe, be it help or equipment, you just have to ask. This is now an IADG operation in regards funding and resources.”  
“No pressure then?” Abe retorted, straight-faced. 

 

A place was found for Abendegos shortly after he was brought onboard the plane. Calling on the IADG, they found a zoo that had closed, due to the animal mutation, but had a perfect great ape enclosure similar to what had been created in the Yucatan. A former zookeeper was employed to see to his needs, and before long he was transferred to the new enclosure, to everyone's, including his, mutual satisfaction at the time. Unfortunately, a month after being transferred to his new home, Abendegos found a way to escape. He was now loose somewhere in the White Mountain National Forest in New Hampshire.

Jamie took the stairs slowly, gripping the handrail in the semi-darkness. Everyone else was asleep, except for the man sitting hunched over his workstation, fingers dancing over the keyboard, multiple screens open above his head showing graphs and DNA charts while an equation revolved slowly on his own screen. Reaching the bottom of the stairs she padded softly in her socks over to where he sat.   
“Hey, love...” her soft call was only a little above a whisper but the man at the console heard it.  
“You shouldn't be out of bed.” His growl sounded surly, but Jamie just smiled.  
“Nor should you. It'll be daylight in an hour or so.”  
He lifted his head, blinking behind his glasses. “Sorry, didn't realize it was so late...er...early.”  
She came to stand beside him, resting her head on his shoulder, an arm across his back while she peered at the screen. “Any luck so far?”  
“Getting closer.” He reached for the hand resting on his other shoulder, bringing it forward to place a soft kiss on the fingers.   
“You know, even geniuses need to put their heads down occasionally,” she chided him. “I haven't seen you take so much as a nap in the last twenty-four.”  
He moved to sit back in his chair and she lifted her head, standing beside him.   
He sighed. “You're right. I was just...involved with this latest combination, I thought...”  
She rubbed his back. “Yeah. I know. Come on, I need you to keep me warm.”  
He swiveled to face her, parting his thighs so she could stand between them, his arms looping around her growing waist. “I would have thought junior could have done that job.”  
“Yeah. But not as well as you do it. He's not quite up to warming my feet yet.”  
Duncan gave a fake shudder. “No, no, not the cold feet.”  
Jamie giggled and stepped out of his arms. “Save what you're doing and call it a day, okay?”  
“Good as done,” he replied, turning back to the screens and starting to shut them off, as well as power down the computer. When that was done he stood up and stretched, his joints protesting by popping and cracking as he flexed each one.   
Jamie was already halfway to the stairs but he quickly caught up, putting his arm around her back to support her as they started up each step.  
“You know, I'm good for more than just warming up cold feet?”  
Jamie smiled. “Oh, I'm counting on it.”

In exploring the differing qualities distributed among the hybrids, Abe found that the squid hybrid, with it's hooked suckers and extra long, prehensile arms held a secret within its blood serum.   
“I think I may have found why you were able to pass on the healing ability to Jamie,” Abe announced to Duncan in the lab.  
“Do tell?”  
“It's more concentrated in the squid specimen, but appears to be present in all the hybrids giving them a faster ability to heal and recover from even mortal wounds, not just serious ones.”  
“Still listening.”  
“It just goes to confirm our theory about your  
wounds being infected with hybrid DNA which in turn saved your life, and was passed to Jamie, curing her sterility.”  
“So all we need to do is synthesize this squid goo and make it available for everyone to take and hey presto! They can get pregnant again?”  
“To put it crudely, yes,” Abe confirmed.   
“So get synthesizing, big guy!”  
“Not quite that easy. Every time I try to replicate the formula it creates an inert substance that couldn't heal a paper cut.”  
“That's a problem.”  
“I need to find something it will bond with and keep it's healing properties, or find a way to replicate the chemical bonds to stop it going inert.”  
“Hey, I've got enough on my plate, you'll need to sort this one on your own.” Duncan held up his hands as if to ward off Abe, then turned his back to carry on with his own project.   
Abe shook his head and smiled. Duncan might be a long way from Mitch Morgan in a lot of respects, but every now and again glimpses of the old Mitch surfaced, making him smile and remember the irascible veterinary pathologist at his snarkiest.

Being part of an IADG initiative again, their research was disseminated to various scientific working groups to see if they were able to crack the impasse both Duncan and Abe had run in to, regarding synthesizing their different solutions to the hybrid and sterility problems. While they waited for the results from these groups from around the world to come back, they found ways to keep from going stir crazy on the plane.   
Duncan and Jamie took to going out at night to attend plays and performances both on Broadway and off, careful to appear anonymous among the crowds, avoiding any red carpet occasions or the possibility of being spotted by paparazzi. Often Jamie would wear a wig and fake eyeglasses, while Duncan only had to put on a baseball cap to blend in with the crowd. By the end of her second trimester even the baggiest of shirts couldn't hide her condition, so they limited their trips to the Big Apple, taking even more careful not to be recognized. There were a few near misses when someone they were queueing with asked if they knew her from somewhere, but it was usually laughed off and they avoided taking selfies with anyone, no matter how friendly and innocent appearing. Duncan had an almost uncanny sense when a camera was pointed in their direction, able to turn his face away and distract Jamie sufficiently that whoever was filming only got a shot that was useless for any identification purposes. 

Jackson and Tessa, having no real need to worry about being identified, were in the throes of planning their upcoming nuptials, choosing to have a civil marriage at City Hall, followed by a wedding party somewhere. It was the choosing of the somewhere that was taking their time, trying to find just the right place that suited the number of people and the style of bride and groom. It was only when they practically tripped over the small restaurant called the Safari, on west one hundred and sixteenth street on the upper west side of Manhattan did they find the place for their reception. It usually only operated during the day, but some haggling convinced the owners to do a one-off for the small, but well-paying wedding reception. A date was booked, the paperwork done and a dress reluctantly purchased by Tessa, who hadn't worn a dress in decades. Isaac was to be their page boy, and even Pizza was given a collar and bow tie to wear for the occasion.   
The small wedding party turned up at the City Clerks office, the paperwork and marriage license were processed, then they just had to wait their turn. It wasn't long coming and within minutes Jackson and Tessa were man and wife. After signing and witnessing the necessary paperwork, the small party of friends was off into a limousine for the short trip from Lower Manhattan to Harlem.  
Pulling up outside the small restaurant, Jackson picked Tessa up and carried her, laughing, across the threshold to be welcomed by the friendly staff, cheerful, colorful surroundings, and wonderful smells of the food being prepared. It was an afternoon of tall stories, laughter, and remembrance of people no longer with them, Abe giving a moving tribute to Elizabeth Oz, while Tessa remembered her own parents, lost in the animal uprising. Enjoying the tasty food and exotic surrounding, Duncan and Jamie sat back and let Abe and Jackson entertain them with tales of their adventures on safari, Jackson relating how he met Chloe and their narrow escape, the staff enthralled to hear the stories for the first time, not realising just how famous the people eating their food really were. By the time Isaac was starting to nod off, the party was over and they were piling back into the limo, Pizza included, and starting back towards the airfield. Isaac was asleep when they arrived back, the limo dropping them off, but leaving again with Jackson and Tessa still onboard to be taken to a hotel for their first night as a married couple. 

Jamie was getting back into bed after another trip to the bathroom when Duncan's gravelly voice reaching out to her in the darkness of their room.  
“Is that what you want?”  
Jamie shifted to rest on her side and face him.   
“Be specific.”  
“Do you want to get married?”  
“Do you?”  
“No. I was married before. It apparently didn't work out so well.”  
“Are you only staying with me because I'm pregnant?” Jamie asked, pulling the covers up to her shoulders.  
“No. What started as a purely adversarial relationship seems to have become something....else.”  
Jamie smiled at him in the gloom. “You say the sweetest things. I think what you meant to say was, we fell in love.”  
“You were already in love...with Mitch Morgan.”  
“True, but as I've told you...you are him, and he is you, so I was in love with you all the time.”  
“But I wasn't in love with you.”  
“No. But you are now.”  
She couldn't see him frowning but she sensed it and it made her smile.   
“Don't people in love get married?” he asked.  
“If they want to, but it's not essential. Is this because we're having a baby?”  
She could just make out that he was scrunching up his face in the way that she loved. It was such a Mitch thing.  
“Won't the child expect us to be married?”  
Jamie swallowed down her laughter. “The baby will only expect to be fed, changed and loved. They don't care about the rest of the things we worry about.”  
“So you don't want to get married.”  
“I didn't say that, I just think that we're not quite on the same page with that idea, yet. There's so much going on right now. You're under pressure to find and synthesize something to stop the hybrids, I'm pregnant and everything involved with that, we're in hiding because neither of us can be seen – me for obvious reasons because of the state of the world right now, and you because you're supposed to be dead...and you're not the same person who was dead in the first place.”  
“Okay. So, not now but later?”  
“Perfect.”  
Jamie shifted onto her other side, trying to find somewhere comfortable, thinking the conversation, such as it was, was over. Duncan shifted as well, his arm coming to rest over her waist, his hand burrowing under her t-shirt to lay just under her breasts.   
“I can't imagine going back to the life I had before. I sometimes wonder if I wasn't still in the tank during that time, just dreaming of being outside and doing the things I was doing. I didn't start to really live until I met you.” He was speaking into her hair, his breath warm against her scalp.  
Jamie smiled to herself. “I love you too.” She lay her hand over his and held it close against the growing roundness of her belly. “We both do. I didn't want to have a life without you, and then you were suddenly back in my life and I never want to go back to before, when you were gone. This is our new life, our second chance, and as long as you are with me, we have all we could ever want. When the baby arrives, we'll have even more to love. So to answer your original question, that's what I want.”  
“Then, that's what I want too.”  
They lay together, sharing the warmth of the bed and enjoying the closeness. Just as Jamie was slipping into sleep, she heard him whisper into her hair. “I love you.” It was the first time he'd actually said the words, and she wanted to cry with how wonderful hearing those words made her feel. As if in sympathy with her euphoria her baby decided to move about in her womb, Duncan's hand moving down lower to feel the flutters and movement under the skin. Her hand joined his, resting against her abdomen while their baby shifted and moved, the proof of life inside her. Soon the baby resettled and its parents did too, Duncan never breaking the contact of his larger hand covering hers.


	9. Saving The World, Saving Ourselves

Part One - IADG Headquarters, New York.

Jackson, as Dylan Green, and Tessa were doing the presentation for Duncan's selective solution to the Razorbacks. It was proposed that the gas be tested on a nest first, to see how effective it was, then it could be used against a targeted population in a ground dispersal, and depending on that outcome, it could be further tested with a pellet drop in known hybrid locations. The IADG boffins pored over the science of the proposal, finding no fault with the theory, so a sample batch was put into production right away. They would know in a week if Duncan's work was successful. 

Abe and Dariela were similarly employed facing a panel at a medical symposium, presenting Abe's countermeasure to the enforced sterility of the human race. It largely incorporated the use of the squid serum combined with other aspects of the hybrid immune chemistry to create a treatment that would reverse the effects of the gas. It would break down the chemical bonds created by the modified TX-14 gas that currently stopped the productions of eggs and sperm in humans, and repair the reproductive organs to the point of being fertile once more. It acted similarly to the hormone treatments used on older women to promote egg production under normal circumstances, but with the source being an animal not human. A human trial was organized with no shortage of volunteers lining up to be included. In the end, they started with just three couples of optimum age to test the treatment. All were given full physicals, full body scans, and their medical histories thoroughly inspected, all the couples had previously successfully had at least two children, to avoid the possibility of second-pregnancy infertility. The trials would run for a month with the couples under daily scrutiny for any sign of changes or, more importantly, ovulation or increase in sperm counts. 

Part Two – the plane, Farmingdale Airfield, Long Island. 

Duncan and Jamie were still in hiding, hoping that if the sterility treatments worked, it would take the pressure off them when Jamie was ready to deliver in roughly six weeks time. There was no way to disguise Jamie's advanced pregnancy so she was confined to the plane to await her time, the job of entertaining her falling on Duncan's shoulders. Isaac was with his parents and Pizza was currently enjoying a holiday at an expensive dog hotel while his owners were busy with saving the world.   
This all meant they had the plane to themselves, leading to all sorts of interesting situations now they had their privacy back.   
The plane itself had its own hanger at the airfield, the plane undergoing some necessary maintenance at the expense of the IADG, which Jamie was happy for them to do. Her own expenses had been seriously depleted by the trips and refueling as they hopped around the country. Not that she minded, but her funds were not unlimited. She had also started writing up some notes for her next book, as suggested by Duncan.  
He was currently sitting in the upstairs lounge, wearing only his jeans, and watching the latest news reports from around the country. Jamie could hear the news reporters voices, but not hear what they were saying. She was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, standing sideways to better stare at her enormous belly, one hand stroking over the distended skin while the other cradled her swollen anatomy.  
“Not long now, baby. Just a few weeks and you'll be arriving into a strange new world. You have no idea how momentous your arrival will be, not just to me but to everyone. Shall we go see your dad?” As if understanding and agreeing, the child inside her kicked, the tiny foot clearly visible pressing against the wall of her uterus. Jamie stroked over the protruding foot until it disappeared. It was warm in the plane so she didn't bother with clothes, only threw on a silk wrapper, tying it just under her breasts and letting the length stroke around her legs as she walked. It caressed her skin and made her feel so decadent, but also sinfully comfortable to be wearing next to nothing. 

Duncan saw movement and looked towards the doorway, his heartbeat increasing with the view he had of Jamie walking towards him, the silk robe brushing against her legs and splitting to reveal her fecund belly, the fabric drawn together to outline her full breasts.  
“Wow. I never get tired of seeing you in that.”  
Jamie smiled and reached her hands up to fluff out her hair. She'd grown it out from the severe bob and it now hung around her shoulders in its more natural wavy style. Lifting her arms pulled the robe apart even further, displaying her lower body in all its lush glory as she padded barefoot over to his chair.   
News forgotten, Duncan slid from the chair onto his knees, reaching for her to draw her towards him, his hands caressing over her tight skin, his lips pressing kisses over the warm flesh while her fingers played with his hair which was back to being a reasonable length at last.   
“I think it's doing somersaults today, just had a foot pushing out to get purchase before turning over again,” she told him, Duncan removing his glasses to better enable him to press his face against her stomach, hands reaching around to caress her back and bottom. He was rewarded with something pressing hard against his cheek, the imprint of tiny fingers or toes moving against his stubble, making him smile.   
“Hey, kiddo. You'll be out of there soon, so give your mother some slack.”  
Jamie stood with her legs slightly apart to steady herself, and her lover took instant advantage, long fingers delving between her legs to tease and torment the sensitive flesh there.   
“Let's get you more comfortable,” he growled, steering her towards the chair. Once she was seated, and he was facing her, still on his knees, he lifted her legs so they rested on each of his arms, then he lowered himself between her spread legs and proceeded to take gross advantage of her recumbent position, much to Jamie's pleasure and delight. Only when she rippled around his tongue in her climax did he allow her to relax and slither down to the carpet, where he held her while she panted and waited for her heart to slow down.   
“God, I needed that.”  
“You looked a little tense,” he teased back, holding her in the circle of his arms as they sat together on the thick rug. The news continued unabated above their heads, the words starting to make sense now they weren't focused on other things.   
“The latest news from the west coast confirms that the hybrids have cut off all access to those remaining stranded in the few safe havens within the coastal cities. Creatures sighting east of the barrier are on the rise and people are warned not to go out at night, or go out alone or unarmed. People are also warned to stay away from any large bodies of water, both fresh and salt, due to sightings of aquatic hybrids that have attacked the local fauna.” A fuzzy bit of footage from a member of the public was shown of a mass of tentacles reaching out of the water to wrap around a deer, only to drag it into the shallows, to the horror of the person taking the footage.   
“Holy shit, I hope they test your hybrid poison soon, it's getting crazy out there.”  
Duncan shook his head. “We'll find out soon enough. I'm more concerned about how long before those things start to breed in the wild. They've certainly adapted themselves quickly to the habitats around them.”  
They watched the rest of the news bulletin before shutting it off, Duncan getting up, then hauling Jamie to her feet.  
“Hungry?” he asked.  
“Only for you,” Jamie replied, taking his hand and drawing him down the corridor to their room. 

Part Three – hybrid nest, unknown location, New York.

Jackson and Tessa watched from the control room as the robot trundled into the nest, going twenty feet into the open space before stopping. A counter on the robot indicated that the spores were at a lethal level. At the push of a button, the robot extended an arm and gas started to spew outwards, quickly filling the room. There was little they could see on the monitor, but the readings indicated it was having an effect on the spores, the nasty buggers dying off rapidly prompting a cheer from those watching. They repositioned the onboard camera to see what was happening to the embryos hanging from the roof. Most were still intact, but several were starting to turn a greyish green, and opaque, where the others were still transparent. As they watched, one of the greyish pods exploded, making everyone in the control center jump, the contents splattered over its neighbors and the floor. Suddenly there were numerous pops and explosions, nearly a third of the embryos eliminated by the gas. Jackson and Tessa hugged, delighted that Duncan's formula was working, the rest of the IADG team just as jubilant. The officer in charge came up to Jackson and slapped him on the shoulder.   
“We'll get this formula into production and distributed as soon as possible. You've given us a fighting chance!”  
Jackson didn't put the man right and give the credit to Duncan, that would come later when the world was indebted to the man for solving the hybrid crisis, a hero for a second time.

Part Four – Unknown hospital, military base, Chicago, Illinois.

Abe and Dariela, along with their son Isaac, were housed in an accommodation block on the base, close to the laboratory. Abe would disappear in the mornings, leaving Dariela and Isaac to amuse themselves for the morning until he returned around midday, then they'd all go out and explore Chicago. News had come only that morning about the success of the gas Duncan had formulated, so it was with high hopes that Abe went in to see the results of the latest test batch.  
There were three couples in the first human trials of Abe's serum, all were showing positive results as regards regeneration of reproductive systems. Sperm counts were on the rise, and they hoped that ovulation was only days away. The latest batch of screening and tests should confirm that. As soon as they had a viable egg, they would test its ability to accept fertilization, and when that was confirmed then both natural and artificial insemination would be trialed. The air of excitement was palpable as Abe entered the clinic, gowned and gloved in readiness to inspect the latest samples. Before he could get his eye to a microscope, one of the female researchers came up to him and gave him an impromptu hug, squeezing him until he wheezed to be let go.   
“Isn't it just wonderful?” the woman gushed. “All the results are showing a positive outcome. All three women are showing elevated levels of estrogen and a thickening of the surface of the womb lining.”  
“Have any produced an egg?”  
“We using urine and saliva tests to pinpoint ovulation, plus encouraging the subjects to have sex as frequently as is comfortable, now the male sperm counts are back to optimum for impregnation.”  
“Then we just have to wait. Wonderful news, Sally, wonderful news.”

The real celebration came ten days later when it was proved that one of the women had not only produced an egg, but that same egg had been fertilized and she was now in the early stage of pregnancy. All her hormone levels were optimal, plus her blood and urine confirmed it. It was the news they were all hoping and praying for. 

That night Abe took his small family out to dinner to celebrate, then afterward took in a show, hugging the momentous news to themselves. They had found a cure for sterility. 

Part Five - the plane, Farmingdale Airfield, Long Island. 

Jamie had been uncomfortable all day, unable to find any position that didn't provoke a cramp or twinge somewhere on her body or legs. Because her exact conception date was hard to pin down, it was only approximate that she still had four weeks to go before she delivered. Her belly was the size of a house, her ability to walk reduced to a waddling shuffle with her weight all at the front.   
“Are you absolutely sure there's only one baby in here?” she queried, lowering herself gingerly into a chair. “I feel like I have an entire litter of baby seals in here, it's been so active.” She winced and rubbed at her side.   
“Pain?” Duncan asked, watching her intently.   
“Just a twinge. Nothing unmanageable.”  
“Here, get those feet up.” He maneuvered a footstool so she could lift her swollen feet up and onto the cushion. Jamie accepted the change in position but started to fidget after only a minute.   
“Still not comfortable?” he asked.  
Jamie sighed, shifting and wriggling, finally giving up and pushing herself upright.  
“Dammit, now I have to go pee.”  
Duncan gave her a sympathetic look but also watched carefully as she waddled away. His worries were confirmed when Jamie shouted for him from the bedroom. When he entered she was in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet.   
“What's up?”  
“More than just pee came out, I think my waters have broken!”  
“Okay, well you're not going to deliver on the toilet, so give me your hand and let's get you upright.”  
He handed her a small towel to put between he legs while he held her up, Duncan checking the fluid she left behind for any indication of bleeding. It looked clear, so they shuffled their way into the bedroom. Jamie shrugged off the silk wrap and perched on the edge of the bed while Duncan got some bigger towels for her to lay on, plus smaller to replace the one getting rapidly soaked between her legs. Despite being naked, she didn't feel cold, her body giving off heat like a furnace.   
“But I'm not in labor, not a squeeze...anywhere.”  
“Be patient, love, they'll arrive in good time.” Duncan got her settled, pulling back the heavier covers and leaving just the sheet. “If you feel the need to get up and walk about that's okay too.”  
“Okay,” her hands were worriedly stroking over her distended belly, as much to comfort herself as to check on any movement from the baby.   
“I need to go get some stuff, so relax and if you get a contraction, start counting when it ends.”  
“Fine. Go get your stuff, I'm not going anywhere.” Jamie sent him a reassuring smile, despite her own expression not remotely reassured.

Three hours later and Jamie was experiencing mild contractions, the heart monitor sending back steady beeps of her baby's heart rate as her skin tightened and squeezed to prepare her for birth. Duncan timed the contractions, checking the spacing and not entirely happy that progress was still excruciatingly slow.   
Five hours into the labor and the strength of the contractions had finally picked up, Jamie taking to walking around the bedroom, puffing and blowing through each hard squeeze, leaning against the wall, other times draping herself over Duncan to ride out each wave. It was still taking its sweet time, but there was nothing to do but make Jamie as comfortable as possible and help her with each painful, productive contraction.   
By the time eight hours rolled by Jamie was starting to weaken, no longer walking, but riding out the contractions on the bed, pillows heaped up behind her for support, even dozing off between spasms. Duncan started to revise what he was going to need, starting to prepare for a possible caesarian if necessary. He kept her supplied with ice chips to moisten her mouth and warm cloths to wipe her face, as well as encouraging words and his hand to crush periodically. Jamie had given up talking, just groaning with each muscle spasm, her eyes shut as she concentrated on what her body was doing. Duncan checked the heartbeat monitor for the baby, the steady bleep giving him confidence that Jamie was doing everything right.  
Another three hours rolled by in a similar fashion, but now Jamie was seriously exhausted, sweat pouring off her as her body strained to push her child into the world. Duncan was also tired, but in a different way, his anxiety that something wasn't right eating away at him the longer the labor went on.   
Jamie groaned loudly, her body squeezing her unmercifully, her voice rising to a scream as the contraction stayed on for longer than usual, her face contorted by the pain. Then just as suddenly the spasm released and she slumped back on the bed.   
Duncan did an internal exam and judged her fully dilated. “Sweetheart, it's time to push, you're almost there, just a little longer...”  
Jamie started to cry. “I'm just so tired,” she wailed, gripping his t-shirt and bunching it in her fist.   
“I know, but we need to get our baby out, so you need to push when the next contraction hits, okay?”  
Jamie nodded and let him go, Duncan, going to the end of the bed. “I'm just down here, you're not alone.”  
Jamie gripped the sheet either side of her and bore down when the next contraction rolled over her, pushing hard, her knees drawn up to give her purchase. She screamed as her body worked, her baby making its way through the birth canal, passing through the cervix, stretching her flesh to its limits.   
Duncan kept up an encouraging litany from the foot of the bed, glancing up to check when the next contraction was happening, the baby's head crowning then disappearing.   
“Come on, Jamie, one good push and he'll be here.”   
Jamie gritted her teeth and strained to deliver her child, the baby crowning again, then suddenly slipping with a rush of fluid into its father's hands, Duncan holding the tiny, warm bundle of life before hurriedly wrapping it in a clean towel, umbilical still attached, the purple cord pulsing strongly.   
Jamie lay panting heavily against the pillows, her eyes closed, totally exhausted. Duncan cleaned the infant's face and nose, smiling down at the wrinkled, screwed up face, tiny hands curled up as if to ward off the world. He turned it over to drain any fluid from its lungs and gently rubbed the baby's back to stimulate breathing. Within seconds it drew in a deep breath and opened its mouth to let out a cry, Duncan's worried smile transforming into a full-blown grin of relief. He carefully placed the child on Jamie's deflating stomach while he dealt with the cord, which was no longer pulsing. He quickly clamped it, cut it, and tied it off, now just having to wait for the delivery of the after birth.   
Jamie had recovered from her initial swoon and now looked down her body. “The baby?”  
Duncan lifted the child and carried it around the bed to her. It was still and quiet when he placed it in her arms. Jamie lifted her head to stare down at the wrapped bundle. She looked into the face of her child, all pink and screwed up and still coated in the white protective layer of vernix, her fingers gently stroking over the crown, a tuft of dark hair defying the oily secretion and sticking up. Jamie looked up at Duncan.  
“It's a boy,” he told her, still grinning, the glittering sheen of tears evident despite his expression.   
“A boy...we have a son,” Jamie said softly, smiling down at the face of her newborn, falling in love all over again. Duncan left her to admire their child and returned to the end of the bed to finish the tidy up, deliver the afterbirth and make Jamie as comfortable as possible. While he worked, Jamie examined her son, kissing his tiny fingers, marveling at his impossibly perfect toes and all points in between. Despite her best intentions, she nodded off, her baby cradled in the crook of her arm.   
Duncan took charge of his son when he started to fuss and wail. “Come now, you need to let your poor mama sleep a little, then she'll be ready to feed you, see, she's already leaking...”  
“I'm awake, you know. Let's give this little guy his first meal.”  
Jamie shifted while Duncan held their child, then, when she was settled and ready, they put  
the baby to her breast, the tiny mouth searching for the nipple, then latching on strongly, Jamie surprised at the intense contact, Duncan pushing more of her breast into the babies' mouth to make a better contact. It didn't last long, but Jamie didn't mind, happy to hand the baby to its father to take care of while she rested some more. Duncan had brought in the cradle they'd picked out, and set it up beside the bed. He now lay his sleeping son in the newborn's first bed, wrapping him securely before leaving mother and child to rest. The afterbirth needed to be preserved for testing, so he gathered that up and took it through to one of the fridges, before gathering up the used linens and dumping them in the hallway. At last, when everything was as it should be, he allowed himself to relax, going back to the bedroom to lay down next to Jamie, their son asleep in the cot beside the bed. Casting off his professional persona, he finally gave in to the tumult of emotions that begged for release...he had a son. Wow. Closing his eyes he gave in to the welcoming blackness of sleep, taking with him the sounds of his lover and son breathing with him. 

When he next awoke, Jamie was sitting on the side of the bed, her bare back to him, feeding their child, her head bent and soft words of love spilling from her lips as she rocked carefully back and forth.   
“Hey,” he growled quietly, letting her know he was awake.   
“He's so beautiful,” Jamie said, turning her head to glance back at him. Duncan sat up and shuffled over to sit beside her, careful not to make any sudden noises to startle the feeding baby. Duncan leaned forward and placed a warm kiss on Jamie's cheek. “You're beautiful.”  
“I'm sore as hell, and look a fright, but thank you. I'll need your help soon because I want to take a shower after this little guy has had his fill.”  
“Okay, I'll go get some extra towels.” Getting off the bed, Duncan padded across to the opposite room and gathered up the towels there, carrying them back to their room. Jamie had the baby on her shoulder, gently stroking circles over the child's back to bring up any wind. One small burp later, and she was laying him down for a nap, the child once more swaddled and satisfied.   
Grateful for Duncan's arm, Jamie shuffled to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, Duncan joining her for a leisurely soap and soak plus massage for her sore muscles, careful to wash between her legs and down her thighs. Jamie gave in to his gentle ministration with pleasure, happy to have him to lean on and let him bathe and dry her, before wrapping her in a toweling robe and escorting her back to bed.   
“Hungry?” he asked, once she was settled. She nodded and he went off in search of sustenance for them both. Later, after their meal was consumed and cleared away, they lay their son between them on the bed, marveling anew at his perfect appendages, Jamie giving her child a warm sponge over, a chance for them both to inspect their precious creation from his toes to his crown.  
“Isn't he amazing? So perfect down to each finger and toenail,” Jamie observed, her face set in a permanent smile of maternal pride. Duncan just nodded, marveling when his son gripped his tiny fingers around his father's finger with a tight grip.   
“Strong, too.” He looked up at his child's mother. “What are we going to call him?”  
“Do you have any preferences?” Jamie asked.   
“Not really. What about your father's name?”  
“Peter? I suppose so. What about something Biblical, like Adam, or John.”  
Duncan screwed up his face. “Um...no, don't think so. Something easily shortened, like James or William?”  
“Are you a Jim?” she asked the baby. “Or a Billy?” The baby chortled and gazed upwards, looking at the faces staring down at him. “I think William is a nice, strong name. As long as he's a Billy, not a Willy, I would have to draw the line there.”  
“Maybe he'll like to be known as Bill, or Will when he's older?”  
“Possibly. How about this...William Mitchell Campbell-Morgan.”  
Duncan laughed softly. “Poor bloody kid. Every one of those is a first name or a last name.”  
“Then he'd got plenty to choose from!” Jamie shot back, grinning.  
“We could just shorten it to Cam Morgan,” Duncan suggested.  
“We could, but it's not half as impressive. We'll put his full name on the birth certificate, but leave it up to him to choose when he's older. In the meantime, he's our own, beautiful William, Billy for short when he's a little older.”  
“Welcome to the world, Billy boy!” Duncan said gruffly. 

The ground crew had long since completed the maintenance required on the plane and left, but a security guard, bored and nosy, decided to investigate the huge plane tucked away in the unmarked hanger, entering illegally via a side door. It had been reported that a man had been seen regularly driving out and back to the hanger, and it was suggested he was living either on the plane itself or in the hanger. The guard decided to investigate and confirm the situation, one way or another, something to boast to his crew back at base. Instead, he got the shock of his life when he heard the unmistakable cry of a newborn issuing from the fuselage. The rear loading ramp was down and someone was backing a vehicle out of the plane. At the same time, the sliding doors at the back of the hanger were moving apart to allow the vehicle to leave. The guard heard voices, male and female, and again the cry, much clearer this time, of a baby. He hid out of sight and watched the man drive away and out of the hanger, the sliding doors once more closing, but the loading ramp was still down. Creeping closer, he looked around the edge of the ramp, but apart from a motorcycle propped up against the side, there was nothing and no one to see. Not bold enough to actually enter the plane, the guard hurried away back to his own vehicle, racing back to his base to report what he'd seen and heard. 

When Duncan returned from his shopping trip, he found the hanger under siege with a number of vehicles parked haphazardly outside, a few airport guards trying to keep the crowd at bay. Several people were loitering around the back of the hanger as well and he was assailed by camera flashes as he approached from the side and parked the truck. Instantly people were pointing cameras and microphones up against his window, jostling and shouting questions at him. If he opened the door to the hanger they'd likely pour in, so he got out of the truck instead, leaving behind the groceries. He locked up the truck, ignoring the people and their rude questions and shoved his way through them to the narrow door at the side. The reporters gathered around the front of the hanger had got wind of his arrival and charged towards him, Duncan studiously ignoring them upon reaching the side door, using his key to unlock it, sliding through, then slamming it in their faces, not giving them a single word to work with. He jogged across to the plane and ran up the loading ramp that Jamie had left down, having no idea there was a problem. Once inside he shut the ramp and caught his breath before walking into the plane, his expression grim. 

“What's happened?”  
He found Jamie in the upstairs lounge feeding their son, the maternal scene so breathtaking he took a moment before replying.   
“We've been found out.” He then went on to explain what he'd found when he'd arrived back, Jamie looking horrified to hear that the hanger was surrounded by journalists and police.   
“What are we going to do?” William had finished feeding and she had him on her shoulder where he lay, waggling his tiny hands and peering out at the world.   
“I imagine we'll be getting a visit from a member of the police in short order.” As if hearing him say that, a voice could be heard shouting at them.  
“Hello, in the plane. Please show yourselves.”  
Duncan waved for Jamie to stay where she was and went to peer down at the ground. Sure enough, there were three police officers standing in the workshop, staring up at the windows, looking for signs of life. “I'd better go down.”  
“Be careful,” Jamie begged, hugging her child and looking anxious. 

Duncan lowered the loading ramp and the three officers appeared around the end.   
“How can I help you, officers?”   
“Is this your plane, sir?”  
“It is. Is there a problem?” Duncan asked, his hands jammed in his jean's pockets.   
“Is there anyone else on board this plane with you, sir?” one officer asked.   
“There is. Again, is there a problem officers?”  
The three men looked uneasy but soldiered on. “We've had a report that there is a baby aboard this plane.”  
Duncan lifted his chin. “And if that was true, what business is that of New York's finest?”  
“Is there a baby on the plane, sir?”  
A noise to the right, of the door to the loading bay opening, drew all their attention. Jamie appeared, looking worried but unafraid, William cradled in her arms. The policemen goggled, mouths open. It was obviously a newborn, one of the officers taking a step forward.   
“Are you here against your will, ma'am?” His hand gravitated to his gun.  
Jamie shook her head and looked annoyed. “Why would I be here, aboard my own plane, against my will? More to the point, why are you here invading our home when we've done nothing wrong?”  
The officers now looked increasingly uncomfortable.   
“Is it a boy or a girl?” the youngest officer asked.  
Jamie smiled and moved closer to where Duncan stood. He hadn't moved a muscle since her appearance, looking as relaxed as if he didn't have a care in the world. When she stood beside him, he put his arm about her waist and kissed her on the cheek, saluting her bravery.   
“It's a boy, we've called him William,” Jamie said, answering the question.   
“Can we...um..would you..permit us to...see him?” one of the other officers asked, hesitantly.   
Jamie glanced at Duncan before nodding, the three officers walking up the steps to the landing to take turns looking at the child in her arms, all of them smiling at the infant.  
The eldest officer looked over at Duncan. “How is this possible? There have been no babies in nearly a decade!”  
“We were very lucky, an unusual set of circumstances that I'm not at liberty to discuss, but this won't be the only baby or the last to be born. We hope to be able to announce more pregnancies in the near future, but right now that is still under wraps. If you still doubt our legitimacy, you can contact Doctor Abraham Kenyatta through the IADG office in Chicago for verification. He's the head of a project working on ending the human sterility crisis as we speak.”  
The officers looked at him, somewhat dumbfounded. Jamie decided to speak up.   
“You can understand now why we've been living here, away from people for the most part. If news of this gets out we'll see far worse than what is outside right now.” She looked down at her precious baby. “Is there any way this situation can be...diluted as misinformation, that whoever reported what he thought he heard was not in fact what he heard?”  
The three officers looked at each other then back at the family before them.   
“We can't prevent the pictures they've taken from being disseminated, but we can prevent them coming into the hanger itself. Without more to work with, it'll be passed off as nothing more than a hoax.”  
Suddenly one of the officers snapped his fingers and looked surprised. “I know who you are, you're Jamie Campbell, the author!”  
Duncan cursed under his breath and Jamie let out a sigh. “Yes, I am. Even more reason for me to hide away for a while longer. If an ordinary Jane doe were to have a baby, that would be news enough, but for a well-known celebrity to have a baby? That will probably blow the lid off completely.”  
“We can't do much, Ms. Campbell, this being private property, but we can keep the crowds at bay, and if they are starved for facts they'll find something more newsworthy in a day or so.”  
“We hope,” the younger one muttered to his colleagues.  
“Can you help me get my truck inside the hanger? There are groceries onboard,” Duncan asked.   
“That we can do. In the meantime take care of the little one, he's a miracle.”

The police officers duly aided Duncan in getting the truck inside the hanger and the sliding doors shut without a journalist slipping inside. The police officers wouldn't give any answers, only saying it had been a false alarm and there was nothing to see.  
On the news that night there was a small mention of the brouhaha at the airport, with no mention of who the occupants of the plane were, or anything about a baby being heard. Pictures were shown of the crowds outside the hanger, but apart from a sequence of images showing Duncan drive up and unlock the door, then later come out with the police and drive inside, there was very little for anyone to write a story about. It came up for discussion on several news channels, but with so little to go on it was brushed off, largely, as a hoax or a mistake with 'nothing to see here' all over it.

Jamie suggested they could fly somewhere else, but Duncan reasoned that it would smack of running away, and if they had nothing to hide, it made them look guilty, despite being exonerated by the police taking no action against them. So, they stayed put, enjoying the early days of William's life, both learning the rhythms of living with a baby in the house, taking turns caring for him, just reveling in being parents for the first time.  
Jamie had been feeling increasingly guilty for not telling Clementine about her father, and now about her half-brother, so, after discussing it with Duncan, she skyped the teenager and decided to confess all.   
“Hey, Jamie, how's it going in the Big Apple?”  
Jamie stared at Clementine's face, noting the changes, how the girl was growing into a beautiful adult. “I'm good, um...Clem? I have some important news to tell you.”  
“Okay. Is it about your next book?”  
“Sort of, well, not really. Clem, I need to tell you something about a person we both knew.”  
“You mean my father?”  
“Yeah. Kinda. I, like you, thought that your father, Mitch, had died back on Pangaea, but we never found his body. There was a reason for this, which I found out only relatively recently.”  
Clem looked confused and worried. “You've found his remains?”  
“No, no. Clem, your father is alive.”  
Jamie thought the poor girl was going to faint she went so white. “Dad's alive? Where? Why hasn't he contacted me? Where is he?”  
“Clem, Clem calm down, your father's body is alive and well and he'd been living with me this past year...”  
“What do you mean his body is alive? What the fuck?!”  
“When I first met him, I was as shocked as you, more so, possibly. He didn't know me, or you or any of us. He had something put in his head that wiped out the person we knew as Mitch Morgan and replaced it with another personality, who was completely unlike your father, as we knew him.”  
“But you knew he was alive and didn't tell me?!” Clem was getting angry now, her face very pink and her eyes snapping fire. “Where the hell do you get off not telling me my father is alive?”  
Jamie looked off screen and Clem instantly pounced. “He's there with you now, isn't he? Dad? Dad! Where are you?!”  
Jamie got off the stool and took William from him. “You'd better speak to her.”  
Duncan grimaced and sat down on the vacated stool. Clem saw his face and instantly burst into tears. “Why didn't you tell me? I'm your daughter!!” she wailed, sobbing and crying, just staring at her resurrected father in disbelief.   
Duncan glanced back at Jamie, then turned back to the screen. “Jamie is right. I'm not Mitch Morgan, the man you knew as your father is not me. My name is Charles Duncan.”  
Clem's distress had drawn Max into her room and he now stared in shocked disbelief to see his son's face on the screen. “Mitch? What sort of cruel joke is this?”  
Duncan shook his head. “I'm sorry, I'm not Mitch. I used to be him, but I had something put into my brain that changed that. I don't remember you, or her, I'm sorry.”  
Max tried to comfort his granddaughter while not taking his eyes off the screen. “You had something put in your head?”  
Duncan nodded. “A bio drive. It subverted my original personality of Mitch Morgan and produced the one I have now, as Charles Duncan.”  
Max gaped. “Good, God. Who did this to you?”  
“A woman called Abigail Westbrooke. I would have died from the hybrid attack, just as you were told, but she managed to rescue me and get me medical help sufficient to repair the damage.” Duncan pulled up his t-shirt to show the scarring across his chest. Clem and Max both stared at the evidence that he was telling the truth. Duncan dropped the hem of his shirt.  
“But I don't have memories of the people or places I knew before, as Mitch Morgan. I only remembered technical stuff from before, like chemistry and science and biology. All the memories that I have today are from the time I woke up, roughly six years ago.”  
Clem was a lot calmer and sat down in front of the screen. “How did you meet up with Jamie again?”  
Duncan glanced off screen, then back, looking uncomfortable. “I was sent to assassinate her.”  
Once more his audience looked shocked and stared back, mouths open. Duncan continued.   
“I was supposed to get rid of her because she was causing problems for my boss, Abigail. Instead, things went a little haywire and I didn't kill her as ordered. In fact, Jamie convinced me to give up my life with Abigail and continue on with her instead. We've been together about a year now.”  
Clem shook her head. “I can't quite believe it. You're back, but you're not...you.”  
Duncan shrugged. “ 'Fraid so.” Max pushed his face closer to the screen.   
“I don't care if you're Charles, Dick or Fred. You're alive and that's all that matters.” Max's lined face creased into a broad grin, happy to have his son alive and well.  
Duncan shifted so that Jamie could be seen by the camera. “We have something else to tell you. Jamie just had a baby. It's a boy and we've called him William.” Jamie held her son close to the camera so their audience could see the child's face clearly, a tiny fist waggling in protest at being bundled about at odd angles.   
Clem was surprised speechless, her hands on either side of her face, her blue eyes as round as saucers. Max looked equally surprised, his bushy eyebrows climbing up his forehead.   
“You two got busy!” he finally announced, then laughed. Clem blushed pink then smiled.   
“He looks adorable, but how...?”  
“Long story, but something in the hybrid bites, passed along to me, helped cure Jamie as well and made William possible.”  
Max looked thoughtful. “Interesting. Is this being extrapolated for a cure in itself?”  
Duncan nodded. “As we speak. Our friend Abe is seeing to that side of the operation.”  
“So my grandson won't be the only baby of his generation?”  
Duncan shook his head. “There should be several more before another year passes if things go to plan.”  
Jamie's mobile rang and she passed William to Duncan before going to answer it. Both Clem and Max smiled at the picture he made cradling his son.   
“I see there are some things you didn't forget,” said Max. “For all your failings as a husband, you were a great father to Clem when she was little, and now it looks like you're the same with William.”  
Duncan looked pleased. He had wondered at the familiarity he felt in handling the infant as if he'd done it all before. Obviously, he had with his daughter, Clem, when she was a baby.   
“We hope, Jamie and I, that we'll be able to come visit before too long, maybe in a month or so?”  
“That would be wonderful,” Clem replied, looking pleased. “I can't wait to tell you what I've been doing since I left off living with Jamie and Logan.”  
“I look forward to that.” William started to fuss and squawl. “Hey, I'd better go and see what this little man needs, but I'll talk to you again soon.”  
“Bye, Dad!” Clem called out. “Bye, son,” Max added, his eyes suspiciously bright.   
Duncan shut off the screen and got up. Off to the side, Jamie stood quietly crying, tears rolling down her face. Concerned, Duncan put his free arm around her and hugged her tightly.   
“What is it?”   
She wiped at her face, drawing in a shuddering breath to calm herself down. “Ignore me, it's just those blasted hormones messing with me. That was Abe on the phone. The tests have all come back positive and all the women are pregnant.” She reached for William, cradling him close and making shooshing noises to quiet his cries.  
“Then we've done it? We've saved the world again?”  
Jamie grinned. “Seems to be what we do!”  
Duncan wrapped his arms around them both, William yowling at being jostled about as his parents celebrated their victory.

It took a further month before the authorities made the announcement about the sterility cure, holding a press conference at a local television station, giving few details but making it known that a cure had been trialed with positive results and the promise of healthy babies being born in eight months time. The human race had a future once more and the news channels chewed over the few facts repeatedly, playing up the hope that soon they were would be children in the playgrounds again.   
On a side note, news about the threat from the hybrids was more low key, the gas formula working effectively to neutralize the spores protecting the nests, plus killing off a proportion of the embryos, leaving behind a manageable number to be disposed of. Through Abe's work with the squid hybrid, that was being preserved and studied, as the other were for any benefits that could be exploited but it was the rapid healing serum that consumed most of the researchers, the possibilities of its uses being made available to all areas of medicine.   
The immediate concern around the world was keeping the current population safe, so having the gas gave them the edge they needed. Those nests that hadn't already hatched and disseminated into the surrounding area were neutralized and destroyed. The beacons were slowly being dismantled, their technology studied for other applications. All of Abigails brilliant and destructive concepts were being picked apart and repurposed to help humanity, not destroy it as originally intended.   
What Abigail thought about all her plans coming to nothing, was unknown. Despite all the warnings about her abilities and intelligence, she still managed to escape during a transfer from Rikers to another facility, suggestions that what remained of the Shepherds aided in her release.  
It was also rumored, through non-regular sources that she'd fled to the west coast to be among her hybrids still roaming free there. Evacuations of the remaining centers of population were almost complete, leaving the huge swathe of land beyond the barrier, its cities and industries, habitats and preserves to find a way to live alongside the hybrids, which now numbered in their thousands. 

Jackson and Tessa were the first to return to the hanger to catch up with Duncan and Jamie, their reunion all the sweeter for meeting little William, the baby vastly amused to be passed around the different adults, his dark eyes now focusing on the different faces, hands reaching up to explore the new features that cooed and chortled at him while he blew bubbles and yawned.   
Abe and Dariela, with Isaac and Pizza, back from his long sojourn at the kennels, arrived from Chicago a week later, everyone adoring of the newest addition to their family, William quickly becoming accustomed to being handed off to people other than his parents to be cuddled and smiled over. 

Part six – Max Morgan residence, Helsinki, Finland.

As promised, they flew the plane to Helsinki to see Clementine and Max. It was bittersweet to watch Clementine be reunited with her father, who recognized her from seeing her on Skype, but apart from an awkward hug, wasn't the warm, loving father she remembered. She did go gaga over her new half-brother, the teenager gushing over the baby, being genuinely affectionate with him, carrying him off to explore, pointing things out to him, despite the fact the baby was more interested in her face than his surroundings. Max couldn't keep his composure on seeing Duncan and wept unashamedly to have his son back alive, in whatever form. For Max, it was more than a second chance, it was a way to leave all the bitterness between father and son in the past and create a new relationship going forward. Duncan was intrigued to hear about his early life, be shown the photos and try to equate all that with the person he was now. When he asked the awkward, painful questions Max was honest with him and tried to explain what had happened, Duncan understanding what the man was saying, but the explanations held no anger or sorrow, bitterness or pain for him, which was a benediction for Max's troubled heart.   
They were still keeping William's arrival under wraps, but that was no hardship at Max's house, the place large enough to accommodate everyone, and all of them happy to take turns babysitting if Duncan and Jamie wanted to go out and explore Helsinki.  
It was on one of these trips that found them peering through the window of a jewelry store. Jamie found herself tugged inside and told to look for a ring.  
“What sort of ring?” she asked, to her a reasonable question.  
“The sort that an engaged person would wear?” he retorted.  
Jamie goggled at him for a second. “You haven't asked me.”  
After giving a brief look around the store, Duncan got down on one knee and held her hand.  
“Will you marry me?”  
Everyone in the store was staring at them, customers and shop attendants alike. Jamie closed her eyes for a second then spoke. “Yes. Now, will you get up?”  
He did, but then cradled her face in his hands and kissed her, rather thoroughly. The customers burst into impromptu applause, Duncan and Jamie oblivious for the few minutes it took for them to embrace. When they did surface, a shop attendant drew them over to her counter to show them a selection of rings to choose from.   
Now Jamie knew what it felt like to be walking six feet off the ground. She couldn't wipe the smile off her face, repeatedly glancing up at Duncan as he looked over the array of rings. When their eyes inevitably met, he sent her a smile that melted her heart and made her toes curl.   
“See anything you like?” he asked.  
“Oh, yeah,” she replied, not looking at the rings but at him. The shop assistant coughed to muffle her laughter and waited patiently for her customers to return their attention to the job at hand.   
At length Jamie made her choice, her ring size was measured, and the ring was taken to the workshop out the back to be resized. They were told to come back in half an hour, so they left the shop and wandered along the boulevard, arms around each other, taking in the sights. 

When they arrived back at the house, they didn't say anything, waiting until someone noticed the new accessory on Jamie's hand instead. It didn't take long.   
“Jamie? That's an expensive looking bit of bling on your finger? Care to share?” Jackson's question drew everyone's attention, Jamie holding out her hand for them to inspect the ring. 

Later, in private, Clementine held onto Jamie's hand after giving her friend a hug. “You're going to marry him?”  
Jamie smiled at her serious expression. “Of course.”  
“But he's not my dad?”  
“No. But he's the man I love now, wrapped in your father's body and with your father's brilliant mind.”  
Clementine bit her lip, struggling to get her point across. “But he's not...Mitch.”  
Jamie pulled Clem into her arms. “No, he's not the Mitch of old, he's a newer version. One that isn't weighed down with the sorrows of the past, the pain of the break up with your mother, and her loss during the animal crisis. He isn't bitter about the breakdown of his relationship with his father or haunted by his guilt over your illness. I know that all those travails gave your father his character, but they also caused him endless pain in his heart. I wouldn't wish those back to torment and hurt him, would you?”  
Clem shook her head. “I didn't think about it like that.”  
“Give him time, Clem. He may not remember you as a child, but I know he'd like to know you better now you're all grown up. Having another child has brought out all his parental feelings, and his body remembers you, even if his head doesn't. He knew how to handle William because his hands remembered how they held you. I didn't have to show him how to change a nappy or bring up wind, because his brain remembered even if his memories of that time were gone. You're still in there, Clem, he just can't access them consciously, he just knows because it is familiar to him.”  
“Wow. And that's why you can love him now, even though he's not the man you fell in love with?”  
Jamie smiled. “See? You're just as smart as your father.”  
Clem smiled back, understanding things a little better now. 

Their time in Helsinki was to be cut short by a summons from several agencies wanting them to front up and explain what had happened to bring about the cure for not only the sterility crisis but a positive weapon in the battle against the hybrid invasion.   
With that in mind, Duncan and Jamie took advantage of the situation of having all of their family around them to get hitched. They would have to do the paperwork when they returned to the states to make it official, but for now, they would simply exchange vows in the garden behind Max's house, with the lake and mountains in the background.   
Jamie and Clem with Tessa and Dariela, went shopping for something to wear, while Max arranged for a local suit hire firm to visit the house and get the men, and Isaac, into formal wear. When the women returned with their purchases a local hairdresser was organized, to visit to do hair and makeup for the women, the hairdresser able to do double duty and trim the men's hair as well. When it was all done, everyone had scrubbed up beautifully, the men admiring their glamorous partners, the women appreciative of the effort the men had gone to, looking so handsome. A local friend of Max's who happened to be a marriage celebrant was roped in to perform the simple ceremony and a hire company was hurriedly called in to erect a temporary gazebo and set up chairs for the small congregation.   
Max walked Jamie up the aisle to where Duncan waited for her. Clem followed along behind Jamie with William in her arms, the infant also dressed up and wrapped in a pure white shawl. Jamie wore a cocktail length satin gown in cream, the color deepening the red of her hair and the rose of her lips. She held a small bouquet which she handed to Isaac, her pageboy, when she reached the gazebo and was handed over by Max into Duncan's hands, each holding onto the hand of the other as they faced one another. Duncan was dressed in a smart suit with a black shirt and silver-grey tie. His hair, for once, was tidily cut and he'd shaved. Behind his glasses, his dark eyes glittered with pride and love. Jamie gazed up at him with no doubts or worries in her eyes, her limpid gaze awash with warmth and love. The celebrant welcomed everyone, then went through the formalities, the couple in front of him never breaking eye contact as the words washed over them. Eventually, they made their declarations, then vows to each other, hands still clasped, Williams gurgling happily in Clem's arms behind them. When the rings were exchanged the celebrant announced.   
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”  
Duncan didn't wait for permission to kiss, he just dived in, lifting Jamie off her feet, her arms wrapped around his neck as she hung on, as passionately invested in the kiss as he was. Their audience whistled and hooted, the sudden clapping making William startle and howl in protest. Everyone laughed and Duncan took the baby in his arms, making appropriate noises until the child settled again, then he and Jamie paused briefly for photos, before walking down the short aisle to the house, their friends and relatives trailing behind.   
The wedding breakfast, a slight misnomer as it was now late afternoon, was catered and delicious, waiters attending to drinks and plates. Max gave a heartfelt speech, then Jackson, as best man, kept the audience laughing with anecdotes about some of their adventures. That they largely featured Mitch didn't phase Duncan, he'd read the books and Jamie had filled in any missing details, so he laughed along with the rest. Music brought everyone up and dancing, Jamie passed around every male to have a dance with, while Duncan was passed between the women, ending up dancing with Clem, enjoying their first father, daughter dance ever. There were toasts drunk to people, friends and relatives that were no longer with them, and to absent friends who couldn't be present due to distance. In the end, it was a day of celebration and joy, the bringing together of two people that had been destined from the day they met, all those years ago at the Los Angeles zoo over a pair of dead lions, to be together despite the adversities put in their way. 

“Happy?” he asked, after finally getting his breath back.  
“Completely,” she purred, nuzzling her face against his shoulder. They were due to fly out the next day so had opted to spend their last night in his father's house rather than go to a hotel. William was sleeping soundly in his crib, and his parents were now married in all but paperwork, which they'd sort out when they got back to the States.   
Jamie let out a sigh. “Now that we've saved the world...again, made it possible for people to have babies and, if not completely stopped, at least slowed down the spread of hybrids around the world, what are we going to do next?”  
Duncan laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Well, you are going to write that book and be a best seller again. We're going to pick out another Mustang for you, to replace the one lost...”  
“I was thinking of one in cherry red, this time.”  
“Whatever. Then, if they don't arrest us on the spot...”  
“Why would they?” Jamie fired back. “You weren't responsible for what was done to you!”  
“No. But I didn't exactly give myself up when I knew the truth.”  
“But you did find a way to neutralize the spores and kill the hybrids, that's got to count for something? And we caught Abigail, who was really the maniac behind it all...”  
“Who then escaped!”  
“Yes, but that wasn't anything to do with you.”  
“Back to what I was saying, you write the book, make a fortune, we all get medals, even me from behind bars, and we all live happily ever after.”  
Jamie gave him a thump. “You won't be arrested, I won't let them.”  
“But I was going to keep Jackson company...”  
“Idiot. He won't be arrested either. Not now the cure for sterility has been found with his help.”  
“Says you.”  
“Yeah. Says me. I wonder what they are expecting of us back in the States?”  
“These talks, you mean?”  
“Yeah.”  
“I imagine Jackson, Abe and myself will be closeted with a room full of eggheads and boffins, while you and the others get a tour of the White House or something like that.”  
“Why you sexist, misogynistic...” she tried to pummel him but he only laughed and captured her hands, moments before he captured her lips beneath his and kissed her into submission. When she came up for air she glared at him, trying to suppress the smile threatening to break out.  
“You know that won't work every time, don't you?”  
“Been working fine so far...” He grinned.

Part Seven – Pentagon, Washington D. C.

As soon as they landed, the plane was directed to a private apron where a number of cars waited for them, some of them flashing their blue and red lights.  
With some trepidation, they lowered the loading ramp and waited for the delegation to enter the plane. As Jamie had rightly predicted the officers and agents weren't there to arrest anyone, only to escort all of them, including Pizza, to the Pentagon for a debrief before a trip to the White House to brief the President and his advisors.  
They were split up between the various black sedans, Duncan, Jamie and William in one, Jackson and Tessa behind them, then Abe and his family in the rear. They'd even provided a baby car seat for William, and a booster seat for Isaac to use.   
On arriving at the Pentagon, they were shepherded into an elevator and taken to a conference suite, there to get settled before meeting a series of panels. When those arrived it was a simple matter of answering their questions, some targeted at specific individuals, some open for general answers from anyone of the group.   
Jackson and Duncan's legal status was discussed and both men duly pardoned of any outstanding legal issues being held against them. Jackson was exonerated from being involved in any part of the initial release of the sterilizing gas, and Duncan was pardoned for his part in the creation of the beacons and hybrid nests under Abigail Westbrooke's, and the bio drive's, control – all done without his consent. Given that no one outside of the Shepherd organisation, now largely defunct, and their own small circle, knew about the existence of Charles Duncan, or his part in what had come after, it was also discussed that he revert back to his original namesake – Mitchell Morgan, veterinary pathologist and savior of the world, two times over. Duncan's response to this was to screw his face up before stomping out of the room without saying a word. Nobody, least of all Jamie, was surprised at his reaction. She asked for a break in proceedings and hurried after him. 

“Duncan, wait!”  
He spun about, his expression ferocious. “Shouldn't that be – 'Mitch, wait!”  
“Don't, that's not fair. I didn't suggest that to them. I didn't know it was even up for discussion.”  
His expression cleared a little. “So that...” He gestured with his hands at the room they'd left. “That didn't come from you?”  
“No. I don't give a flying fuck what you call yourself...I love you, not a name. Haven't I made that plain enough?”  
He stared into her face, then nodded. “I'm sorry, it just caught me on the raw...I thought...”  
“I know. Don't you think it hurt me too?”  
He looked at her, his eyebrows raised. “I didn't think of that...”  
“Nobody did. I sincerely mourned for Mitch in those years immediately after. I couldn't stop loving him, but I did mourn his loss. Then you came along and I loved you because you were him in everything bar his name and memories. When I married you, I wasn't marrying Mitch, I was with you.”  
“Do you think I should change back to Mitch Morgan?”  
Jamie bit her lip. “I think there is more of Mitch Morgan in you now than there was ever Charles Duncan in you before, if that makes any sense.”  
He bowed his head. “I'm not the man I was, being Duncan when I was with Abigail, and I'm glad. I think...I think I will reclaim my name and consign Charles Duncan to the past, where he belongs.”  
Jamie smiled, her eyes welling up. “I think I love you, Mitch Morgan, more than I can possibly put into words.”

When they returned to the room, they stated their intention for Duncan to be retired, and take back his original identity as Mitch Morgan. Their friends heartily agreed, congratulating Mitch on his return as if he'd been away on holiday, not masquerading as another man. The debrief carried on until all the questions were asked and answered and they were allowed to leave, although that was a relative term. They were, in fact, taken to a secure hotel for the night. They would go to the White House the next day. Their suite boasted a communal dining room where they ordered in and enjoyed a meal to celebrate their new status. No one had to hide behind an alias, or pretend to be anyone he wasn't, Mitch hardly taking any time at all to become used to his new-old name again.

Part Eight – The White House, Washington D.C.

They were shown to an ante-room to await their meeting with the President. Pizza was the only member of the team not present, being looked after at kennels near to the airport. Everyone was wearing their best gear, Mitch once more in his wedding suit, while the other's were similarly dressed. William was doing what baby's do best in these situations – sleeping, a state his parents were thankful for. He was growing fast, the tuft of hair on his head becoming long and unruly, just like his father's hair had a tendency to do, but as compensation William's hair was silky and soft, a constant magnet for his mother to stroke, or anyone else who had hold of him.   
They were not kept waiting long, a functionary coming to collect them and take them down a picture lined hallway to another room where several top-level brass, senators and aides, plus the President himself, waited for their arrival.   
President Trent greeted them all individually, shaking their hands, before passing them down the line until everyone had been greeted and introduced and seated.   
“Welcome to you all, gentlemen and ladies. I believe this isn't the first time you have been gathered here within these walls, although I see there are some new additions to your...er...team.”  
“Isaac was born shortly after our last visit here, and William is, as you can see a very recent addition to our family.” Jackson had been nominated as spokesperson for the group unless anyone was addressed directly.   
“Very recent indeed,” the President concurred. “Care to fill us in on how that came about, Dr. Morgan? I thought you were presumed dead, according to the report I read.”  
“I was, until recently. I was attacked by hybrids, the Razorbacks, on Pangaea and left for dead. Abigail Westbrooke, who was the architect of the recent hybrid crisis, rescued me and fixed me up. My encounter with the hybrids started a process inside me that eventually cured the effects of the gas released by the Shepherds. Long story short, I was reunited with Jamie a few years later, we got busy and my DNA healed her, resulting in her ability to get pregnant.”  
The President eyed Mitch with resignation as if expecting no less than the bare outline of what really happened. “Hmm, I see. I'm sure there was more to it than that, but I guess I'll have to wait to see the story in print, Ms. Jamie Campbell.”  
Jamie smiled serenely. “Mrs. Jamie Morgan now, Mr. President. And yes, I'm already putting together a story encompassing what's been happening in the last couple of years. Might not be out until next year, probably around Christmas, but it'll be worth the wait.”  
President Trent grinned. “I'll be sure to pre-order it.” He went on to talk to Jackson and Tessa, then Abe, about his work with the sterility cure, including Dariela and Isaac, who was suitably awed to be in the presence of such an important man as the President of the United States. After an hour of answering questions asked by one and all, they were taken back to the ante-room to have a bathroom break plus refreshments before the formal part of their visit. Unlike their previous visit which had been conducted in the full glare of publicity and broadcast over all the networks, this time there would be only the White House press secretary and photographer to record the event, something everyone involved was glad of.   
Two hours after their morning conference with the President, they were ushered into the Oval Office to be presented with medals recognizing their contributions to ending the sterility crisis and finding a way to control and destroy the hybrids in their nests. Each member of the team, excluding the children, were presented with the Presidential Medal of Freedom for their part in bringing about the two cures for the present crisis. Abraham and Mitch were also awarded the National Medal of Science for their contributions not only with the separate crisis but also for their influence on the future of medical science with the squid serum applications, and hybrid gas, and the overall study of the hybrids. Both men protested it had been a joint effort from everyone, but the others just applauded them more enthusiastically to drown them out.   
Then it was all over and the President once more shook hands and kissed cheeks before leaving. They were once more returned to the waiting room while their transport was brought around.   
William needed feeding and changing, the Morgans taking over one of the couches to accomplish those tasks. At length, they were all escorted out of the White House and into the waiting cars to be whisked back to the hotel to gather their gear, then driven to the airport and back to the plane.   
It had been a very long day.   
Glad to be back home, Jamie took William to the bedroom to take a nap, something she needed for herself as well. Mitch went with them but returned shortly after ditching the formal clothes for something more comfortable. The others had done the same and slowly drifted back to the lounge to talk about the day and recent events.   
Jackson was sifting through a mountain of paperwork that had accompanied the medals.  
“Hey, did you know these chunks of metal come with a nice monetary reward as well?”  
“That's good to hear,” said Mitch. “This flying hotel doesn't exactly pay for itself.”  
“How substantial is it, Jackson?” Dariela asked.  
“It doesn't stipulate the individual amounts, we have to contact the Treasury to sort that out, so I guess we'll find out then.”  
“What is the going rate for saving humanity and the world for the second time?” Abe asked, making everyone laugh. Different amounts were then bandied about, each more outrageous than the last.   
“I'd like enough for us to buy a house near a good school for Isaac, plus put something aside for college.”  
Tessa looked at Jackson, then back at their friends. “It would be nice if it was enough to start up a business, maybe something like adventure tourism?”  
“You haven't had enough adventure already?” Dariela retorted. “I know I have.”  
“Maybe it will be a fund like a research grant to advance the science around the hybrids,” was Abe's suggestion. They chewed over a few more ideas then the party broke up, some to rustle up a meal, others to retire to their rooms for a well-earned rest. 

Mitch entered the bedroom as quietly as possible. The lights were low and daylight was all but gone beyond the plane windows. Kicking off his shoes, he crawled on the bed and settled beside his wife, Jamie turning towards him and nuzzling against him, her head on his shoulder.   
“I wondered how long you'd be before joining me.”  
“We were just winding down. Everyone's gone off to do their own thing now.”  
Jamie sighed. “I love them all to bits, but I'll be so glad when it's back to being just us.”  
“Yeah, know what you mean.”  
They lay together, just enjoying being close, the occasional snuffle coming from the crib beside the bed. “Do you think they'll let us hang up our superhero cloaks now?” Mitch asked.   
“Is that what you want to do? Just walk away from all that science? Don't you want to be involved in finding out what else there is to learn?”  
“Right now? I want us to find a nice, secluded holiday spot where we can sip cocktails by the pool, watch William enjoy the attentions of a top class nanny, and later make love in an oceanside cabana where you can just step out and into a warm sea for a swim afterward.”  
“Sounds heavenly, but I don't think the world is quite free of trouble and strife enough to make that scenario possible just yet. Maybe in a couple of years when things settle down and people have hope again when they see babies being born around the world.”  
“Yeah, you're probably right. So no holiday, you've got a book to write... and me?”  
“You can be my house husband while I write. I'll need plenty of peace and quiet, numerous cups of coffee and tea, plus sustenance to keep me going, and someone has to take care of William.”  
“Fine. But as soon as that book is finished, I expect to be taken on holiday. Deal?”  
“Deal.”

Part Nine – The Treasury, Washington D.C.

The men went to the Treasury to sort out the financial remunerations, such as they were, while the women and children, plus excitable dog, hired a mini-bus with a driver to give them a private tourist trip around Washington D.C. There was plenty to see and do, and when they stopped for lunch the driver took them to a park for Isaac to run around and play, along with Pizza while the women enjoyed an al fresco picnic supplied by a local cafe. There were other family groups doing the same, the day sunny and warm. It all looked so normal, as far removed from anything dangerous as you could wish. 

Mitch was drumming his fingers on his knee, Jackson and Abe sitting beside him. They were waiting for the treasury officer to return with copies of their paperwork, then they could leave. It was past lunchtime and his stomach gurgled. Getting up he filled a plastic cup at the water machine and downed that, scrunching the cup up and tossing it in the bin just as his phone rang.   
“Speak to me.”  
“Mitch? It's Dariela.”  
“Hi, how's your day going?”  
“Mitch? You and the guys need to get to Sibley Memorial...”  
“What's happened? Is it the baby?”  
“William is fine....it's Jamie.”

Dariela was waiting for them at the emergency department reception, with William in her arms. She handed over the baby to Mitch and then told them what had happened.  
“We'd just stopped for lunch at a park, recommended by the driver. Isaac was off playing with Pizza, and everything was fine, then we heard screaming. We didn't know what was happening. We all went to where Isaac was to collect him and the dog before we turned to head for the mini-van. It came out of nowhere, snapping and snarling, lunging at anyone it could get close to. It was pandemonium, parents, and kids running screaming in all directions...”  
“A Razorback?”  
Dariela nodded. “We were nearly at the van when it reached us, Pizza did his best but he was no match for the hybrid..” Dariela started to cry. “We had to leave the dog behind, but he was dead anyway. He did buy us enough time to get most of us into the van, but Jamie...”  
Mitch tried not to squeeze his son too hard, his face draining of blood as he pictured the scene Dariela described. Abe had his arm about his wife, comforting her.   
“She managed to hand William over to Tessa moments before the animal attacked. There were men tracking it, but they didn't get there for several minutes. We had to protect the children...”  
“Where is she?”  
Dariela directed them through to the cubicle where Jamie lay, Tessa at her side, Isaac beside her, his face tearful. When he saw his father he jumped up and threw himself into Abe's arms. Tessa got up and went to Jackson, Mitch taking the chair she'd vacated.  
“There's so much blood...” Mitch whispered, William starting to fuss in his arms. He pulled his gaze away from his wife to tend to the child. Tessa offered to take him and he gratefully handed him over.   
Jamie lay still and white under the blanket, areas soaked through with blood from her injuries. A heart monitor beeped in a regular pattern and he glanced up to automatically check her blood pressure and oxygen levels.   
“What are her injuries?” he asked, looking up at Tessa.  
“They wouldn't give us details, only to get you here as soon as possible,” she told him.   
Mitch stood up. “Look, they won't allow all of us to stay with her, so I suggest you go back to the reception until they issue her with a room, or I find out more about what going to be done for her.” He stared at William. “He'll be wanting to be fed. Was there any bottles in the nappy bag?”  
“We'll take care of him, don't worry, Mitch,” Jackson assured him. “Just let us know when you hear anything about...what's going to happen next. Okay?”  
Mitch nodded and watched them leave, then sat down beside the gurney to await a doctor to tell him what was wrong with Jamie.   
Not long after a nurse appeared and he was able to quiz her about Jamie's condition. The woman told him little enough, only that she'd sustained the loss of blood at the scene, and would need surgery for numerous lacerations, which is what she was organizing right now. The nurse left just before the on-call surgical team arrived to do an assessment.   
“Mr. Morgan? I'm doctor Reeves. I'll be working on your wife this afternoon.”  
“I was told she was attacked by an animal?”  
“Her injuries are extensive. Several lacerations on both arms, deep bite wounds on her legs, and scoring across her torso and back. We'll do our best to minimize the scarring, but she will be left severely marked by this attack.”  
“Are any of them life-threatening?”  
“They were able to stabilize her at the scene, but I should warn you she may lose some range of movement in one arm and a leg due to the depth and placement of the tears affecting her muscles.”  
“I don't give a flying fuck about her looks or movement, will she live?”  
“Yes, Mr. Morgan, your wife will live. Now we need to take her to be prepped. I'll direct the nurse to take you to a waiting room.”  
The team went to move the gurney and Mitch leaned down to brush a kiss on Jamie's forehead before they took her away. A nurse aide appeared at his side and told him where he could wait, and she'd take him if he was ready. He told her he had to see his friends first. 

Jackson saw him walking towards them and shushed the others.  
“Mitch?”  
He looked up briefly at the expectant faces and ran a hand through his hair. “They're taking her up for surgery right now. They've told me she'll live, but probably be scarred for life and possibly lose some mobility in an arm and leg.”  
“That's good news...mostly. How long will the surgery take?”  
“They didn't say. They've directed me to a waiting room where they'll let me know when they finish.”  
Mitch spoke clearly, but he didn't seem able to stop his eyes from darting around the room, never settling on anything or anyone for long. Abe stepped forward and place a hand on his arm.   
“I'll take Dariela and Isaac back to the plane, along with Tessa and the baby. We'll take good care of him until Jamie is well enough to see him again.”  
Jackson hurriedly jumped in to fill the silence from Mitch. “Good idea, Abe. I'll stay with Mitch for now until Jamie comes out of surgery.”  
“Fine. Call us if you have any news.”  
Jackson nodded. He kissed Tessa goodbye then took Mitch by the arm, asking him where the waiting room was. When the two men had left the reception area, everyone else prepared to leave. The mini-van driver had stayed to see what the outcome was and cheerfully agreed to take them all back to the plane to wait for news. 

Mitch sat beside her bed and raked his fingers through his hair repeatedly. Jackson had left an hour ago, at Mitch's insistence, to return to the plane and the other's to tell them about Jamie, leaving Mitch to maintain a vigil over the injured woman.   
The surgeon had been very positive about a quick recovery and pleased that the repairs to the numerous gashes and tears would mostly heal without major scarring, despite the initial prognosis. As for the mobility issues? Those would have to wait until the wounds were healed, then they'd assess her for physiotherapy. They had told him to go home because Jamie would be asleep for some time recovering from the anesthetic, despite waking up immediately after the operation.   
Mitch wouldn't leave, prepared to wait for as long as it took for her to wake up. 

He was cradling a cooling cup of hospital coffee a day later when a noise made him look up to see that Jamie's eyes were open. He stood up, drawing her attention.  
“Hey,” he said gruffly, swallowing to keep his emotions under control. Jamie stared up at him, blinking sleepily.   
“Hey,” she eventually replied, her lips lifting in a small smile. Her eyes wandered past him to the room, the ceiling, then down at herself, her bandaged arms resting on the covers by her side. “What happened? William?” The heart monitor started to beat faster as her anxiety rose.   
“He's fine, he's with Tessa and Dariela and the others. You saved them all, you saved our son.”  
Her heart rate started to lower and she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she looked up at him and frowned. “There was a damn hybrid in the park...”  
“It attacked you,” he told her. “Got a few good bites in before they shot it.”  
“We were told it was safe, that they hadn't seen one in months...we would never have...”  
“I know, it wasn't your fault. It should never have attacked you at all, given the hybrid DNA inside you,” he told her.   
She glanced at her bandaged arms again. “How bad?”  
“You'll have an impressive collection of marks front and back, plus some major bites on arms and legs, but nothing life-threatening. You just need to heal.”  
Jamie frowned. “I don't feel any pain at all, isn't that unusual?”  
Mitch raised his eyebrows. “A little. No pain at all?”  
She shook her head. “Help me take this bandage off...”  
“Hey, that's probably not a good idea, the wounds...”  
But Jamie was already picking at the bandage closure tape, her fingers clumsy but persistent. Mitch covered them with his hand to stop her.   
“Fine, let me. Just the one arm, okay?” He waited for her to nod, then started to unwind the length of bandaging covering her from wrist to elbow. As each centimeter of skin was exposed he searched for a sign of stitches or injury, but each visible patch of skin appeared unmarred. He continued up her arm, passed her elbow, finding the same thing, no evidence of any injury to her flesh at all. When he let the bandages drop to the bed cover, short black, knotted threads were among the folds. Mitch stared at them for a moment before placing them. Fuck, it was the stitches used to close the lacerations, only there was no evidence of lacerations anywhere on Jamie's skin. She saw the astonishment on his face and looked at the arm herself, seeing nothing but the usual skin with some marks on it from the residue of blood and antiseptic wash used in operation.  
Mitch was around the other side of the bed unwrapping her other arm, finding the same results of discarded stitches and perfectly sound skin. Jamie held up both arms, no sign of problems with her muscles or any weakness, both arms moving normally and unmarked by anything other than traces of blood and brown antiseptic liquid.   
“I don't understand,” Jamie whispered. “There's not a mark!”  
Mitch was thinking, turning over ideas and probabilities in his head. “ I would need to see what's happening in the blood and tissues...” he muttered, thinking out loud.   
Jamie ignored him and sat up, the heart monitor sounding an alarm. Within a few minutes, a nurse appeared, stopping when she entered the room, shocked to see her former comatose patient up and moving, and apparently keen to get out of bed.   
“Please, Mrs. Morgan, you can't get out of bed? You shouldn't be able to sit up yet! And who took off the bandages?!”  
Jamie had pushed back the bed covers and was staring down at the squares of bandaging covering areas of her naked torso. She instantly started to pluck at them peeling them back to reveal pristine skin, the nurse, who had lunged forward to stop her, staring in surprise at the lack of any surgery as well.  
Stupified, the nurse backed away. “Um...I'll go get a doctor...er...don't leave.” She hurried off and out of the room.   
Jamie had ignored her and pulled off a number of smaller wound pads, revealing that whatever they'd worked on in surgery, was now fully healed, the stitches scattered among the discarded bandaging. “Do I have any clothes here?” she asked, looking around.  
Mitch looked around the room. “Um...probably not. It would have been cut off you and thrown away.”  
“Then I'll need a hospital gown unless you want me wandering the hallways buck naked?!”  
Mitch rummaged and turned up a pile of hospital gowns, handing one for Jamie to cover her front, and when that was secured, another to cover her back. When they were all tied on, she went to stand up, swaying for a moment and accepting Mitch's arm around her waist to steady her. The IV line had been removed and the small wound was nearly healed already around the puncture site.   
“Jamie, don't you think you should stay and be checked out by the doctors?” Mitch asked.  
She looked up at him, determination in her expression. “I want to see William. Coming?”  
He grinned back at her and leaned in for a quick kiss. “Wouldn't miss it for the world.”

Part Ten – The Plane, Washington D.C.

Their arrival back at the plane was greeted with a mixture of astonishment and profound relief. Jamie hurriedly took a shower, discarding the hospital robes for jeans and t-shirt before having a cuddle with William. Leaving Mitch to explain, if he could, her miraculous recovery, she took her son to a quiet corner to give him a feed. She worried that her milk had possibly started to dry up, but William latched on easily and fed strongly, giving her confidence that she could still carry on feeding him. When her baby had had his fill, she wandered back into the lounge, William on her shoulder.   
“So...any conclusions?” she asked, looking pointedly at Mitch and Abe.  
“It would seem that your ability to heal has been exponentially accelerated,” Abe offered.  
Jamie snorted. “No offense, but no shit, Sherlock!” she retorted, her friends doing their best to hide their laughter at what was such a Mitch thing for her to say. The man himself just raised his hands in a gesture of acceptance.   
“Hey, I'm just thankful that whatever is working inside her, is doing its thing in spectacular fashion.” He looked thoughtful. “I will be taking some blood to run some tests, but I think this just goes to prove how effective the hybrid super healing serum is.”  
“Will it have been passed on to William?” Dariela asked something Mitch had been wondering himself.  
Mitch shrugged. “I guess we'll find out the first time he skins his knees.” He was looking at Jamie when he said it, noting how she relaxed, knowing he wouldn't deliberately harm their son just to test a theory.   
“It does point to a wealth of applications for medical use,” said Abe.  
“As well as cosmetic use, have you looked at Mitch and Jamie lately?” Dariela pointed out.   
Jamie and Mitch looked at each other, while the other's stared at them.   
“Wow. I did not see that,” Jackson exclaimed.   
Tessa rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath. “Men!”  
Jamie looked puzzled, not seeing what they did. “I'm sorry, you've lost me?”  
Dariela laughed. “Must be true, that love is blind. Honestly, Jamie, how old do you think Mitch looks?”  
Jamie looked at her husband, narrowing her eyes and really looking at him. What she saw surprised her and she stared at Mitch with round eyes. “Wow. Right now? Um...Late thirties?”  
Dariela turned to Mitch. “And how old do you think Jamie looks, Mitch?”  
He screwed up his face but dutifully looked into the visage of the woman he loved. His eyes, behind his glasses, roamed over her features, tracing familiar paths, suddenly seeing the subtle changes.  
“Oh...um...early to mid-twenties?” he finally offered.   
“Flatterer,” Jamie shot back, smiling.  
“He's not being cute, it's true, you both look like you've dropped a decade at least. It's like you spent the last year at a really expensive spa.”  
“So, what? We get an extra ten years tacked on to our lifespan? That would be one hell of a marketing strategy!” said Jamie, laughing.   
“Seriously,” Abe added. “I think some tests are in order, just to be on the safe side. I'd hate to think that instead of adding, the situation was actually accelerating the aging process instead.”  
“Now you're just being unkind. Look younger, but get older?” Jamie argued. “Make your mind up.”  
“And are the effects permanent or a short-term fix?” Jackson asked, his questions quite serious.  
Jamie rolled her eyes. “I'm taking William to have a nap. You jokers can squabble amongst yourselves, I'm off.”  
The group barely acknowledged her leaving, the conversation now focused on the many and varied ramifications of the hybrid serum and its effect on humans – intended or otherwise. 

“Still awake?”  
“Yeah.” She waited until he was settled beside her. “Do you think we should be worried?”  
“About the anti-aging thing? No. I think it's just a side effect of the body universally repairing itself. Aging is a form of injury to the body, so the hybrid serum isn't going to be able to differentiate between actual physical damage, like that done in the attack, or the damage from the natural aging process.”  
“So, potentially it will increase our lifespan?”  
“It's a theory. It would depend on whether the effects are ongoing, or just a one-off reset, if you like.”  
“It didn't have a quick healing effect when you pistol whipped me, all that time ago.”  
Mitch winced in the darkness. “No. But we'd only just met then, maybe it took time or was busy repairing other things inside you before it could get to the injury.”  
Jamie was quiet while she chewed that hypothesis over. “Okay. I'll accept that idea. And maybe, being attacked and having more hybrid goo injected into me from the bites helped boost what I already had swimming around inside?”  
“It's possible. I have the results from previous blood tests, so it would be easy enough to compare them and see any differences.”  
Jamie grumbled under her breath.  
“What?”  
“I feel like I'm being lined up to just give blood every few days to see what's up with Jamie today!?”  
“You don't have to give another drop if you don't want to. I'll use my own.”  
“No. I was just being sarcastic. Take whatever you need, it's not like I'll feel the loss.”  
They lay there quietly, hearing the occasional muted voice or sound from the other suites.  
“About that whole 'looking younger' thing. I at least have the excuse that I didn't know what you looked like before I met you, so hardly had a basis for comparison. What's your excuse?”  
Jamie giggled. “For not noticing how young you were looking? I guess what they say is true – love is blind. I was just so glad to see you alive, that noticing anything else was kinda blown out of the water by the 'seeing you alive' bit. Plus you weren't wearing your normal face, all your expressions were screwed up, like a mask. Anyway, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. If you have any complaints or issues with it, take it up with management.”  
Mitch chuckled. “I thought you were management?”  
“Do you have any complaints or issues you wish to bring up?”  
“Can't think of a single thing.”  
“There you go.” She let the seconds tick by. “So...still not tired?”  
“Nope.”  
“Oh, good. Prepare to have your bones jumped by a much younger woman!”  
Mitch raised his head to look around the room. “Where? Where is she?”  
Jamie then proceeded to pummel him while he laughed, the baby sleeping through his parent's energetic lovemaking with all the aplomb of a seasoned veteran.

The question of Jamie's health occupied several members of the team over the next few days. She willingly surrendered to having her blood taken, along with other body bits, primary to remove any chance of her condition harming William, although as it was pointed out, that horse had pretty much bolted the moment she breastfed the child for the first time. Mitch was also put under the microscope to see how he differed in any way to Jamie, the results to be presented when they were all in.   
The news was still covering the announcement that three women were pregnant with a breakthrough in the cure for sterility, the press only having a few facts to chew over, journalists in a ferment to be the first to break the news with more detailed information.   
Inevitably, the news of the return of the team who solved the animal mutation crisis, made front page news, leaked as it was from the White House, along with an image of the team standing with President Trent, medals clearly shown, and more importantly, Jamie holding a newborn baby in her arms. If someone had dropped a bomb in the middle of Time Square the news couldn't have blown up more spectacularly. The photo was like gasoline, raising so many questions, not least about the baby. Mitch Morgan was dead, so how was he in the picture? Jackson Oz was a wanted man, so how was he there and getting a medal? So many questions and no one to give any answers. Old footage of their last time was played, sans Mitch, because he was supposed to be dead, but even then they found footage of him from obscure sources. The mystery about Jackson Oz resurfaced, the question of who had changed all his online images was queried, footage from ten years ago compared with the present, and intervening years. Everybody's backgrounds were raked up, only Tessa managing to maintain some form of anonymity because names hadn't been printed along with the original incriminating photograph. The White House huffed and puffed but the leaker wasn't exposed, nor much more information other than the when and the why, proving the photo to be genuine and not a hoax, as had been suggested. Jamie came in for her share of the flak, several questions raised about the baby, whose was it? The ring on her finger, who had she married? And when? Where had she been hiding for the best part of a year? Where was she now? And when was her next tell-all book coming out?  
The previous story about the guard hearing a baby in a plane hanger came back to haunt them, the police officers who'd been there chased by the journalist for their part in what had been thought of as a hoax at the time. To their credit, the men remained closed mouthed and they were quickly abandoned in favor of the nosy guard who was happy to talk to anyone.  
Footage of Jamie at society gala's from two years ago resurfaced, along with paparazzi photos of her time in the spotlight, the images of her now compared with those, noting her more relaxed posture now, fuller figure,the longer hair, the accessory in her arms – a baby!

Their bolthole wouldn't last much longer. Agents, on behalf of the President, had arrived to discuss their options, suggesting that they split up and find separate hideaways until the next major news item shuffled them off the front page. They all agreed, hastily packing their bags, those that were leaving, to go with the agents out of D.C.  
Abe and his family, minus their beloved dog, were the first to go. They promised to let everyone know where they ended up, but for now, would keep 'radio silence' until the pandemonium blew over. Their friends gave them a warm send-off with hugs and kisses after a group photo of them all together, not knowing when the next time would be.   
A day later saw Jackson and Tessa depart, a final hug with the baby and with its parents, before they were whisked away by the same agents to parts, as yet, unknown.  
The plane was being readied for the same, a destination chosen that would give the family a breathing space and allow the news frenzy to die down to more reasonable levels. It was suggested that taking a year off wouldn't be unreasonable, in their estimation, Jamie and Mitch taking that onboard with almost simultaneous eye rolls.  
As it was, somehow news got out and when the hanger was opened to roll out the plane, a number of journalists were camped outside, despite the airport police attempting to move them forcibly. The reporter's patience was rewarded when the dark grey behemoth rolled out of the hanger and taxied to the main runway, having clearance from the control tower. More pictures were taken of the plane smoothly rising up into the sky and beyond their sight, only then would the collection of news hounds leave as requested, clutching their breaking news story and formulating the script to go with the exclusive footage. 

Part Eleven – the plane, somewhere above the American continent heading west at 43,000 feet.

They were on their own. Their friends were gone, to restart their lives somewhere new, and so were they. Until the media circus quietened down, they were at risk of being mobbed anywhere they went, which meant their choices of places to live were limited. They were currently cruising somewhere over the midwest, above Kentucky and heading for their ultimate destination of Auckland, New Zealand. The flight would take near to twenty-one hours and carry them over nine thousand miles in one go, easily within the planes specified limits, given its unusual design and weight ratio compared to a fully laden passenger plane of a similar class.   
They had all the paperwork, expedited by the White House staff, to allow them to land in New Zealand with permits, passports, and visas already rubber-stamped at the New Zealand Embassy in Washington. For the next twenty-odd hours they could do what they liked, looking forward to an extended stay with the backing of the United States government behind them. There was also the small matter of the outcome of the visit to the Treasury which had been largely overlooked in all the furor over Jamie and the hybrid attack.   
Jackson had left their share of the paperwork behind for them to read through, the upshot of an inspection telling them they were both granted an annual pension on top of a government salary to cover any and all expenses for their combined contribution to saving the world – twice. The folder contained access cards to the accounts opened in their individual names, administered by the Treasury which they could access either in person or online, with associated account numbers and temporary passwords. Jamie instantly jumped online to check out her new account, gratified to see a comfortable six-figure number, which had been adjusted to allow for back pay, staring back at her from the screen.   
“Damn. That'll pay for a few nappies!”  
“I take it they finally, fiscally, appreciate our efforts to date?” Mitch asked, still reading through the paperwork at the table.   
“Pass me your access card and I'll check your balance as well.” She repeated what she'd done for her account, with his, giving a low whistle when his balance popped up on the screen. Mitch looked up and raised an eyebrow. Jamie glanced over then back at the screen.  
“Let's just say that coming back from the dead and saving the world has a nice payoff.” She told him.   
“And I get a couple of chunks of jewelry as well...cool.”  
Jamie logged off and sat down beside him. “Are you happy to keep the plane?”  
Mitch looked up. “More to the point, can you imagine giving it up after all this time?”  
“Nope. But that's just me. I'm more interested in your thoughts on it, how you want to live?”  
Mitch pushed the stack of papers away, the better to give her his full attention.  
“I want to live where you are, where William is, where we are safe and comfortable, where you can write your book and I can dabble in science here and there, and William can have a safe and happy childhood. That is what I want.”  
Jamie gazed back at him, her heart in her eyes. “You know, our son will be asleep for a little while yet, care to mess about with a married woman?”  
Mitch grinned back. “Do I know this wicked woman?”  
“You have intimate, carnal knowledge of the woman, as she does of you...” she leaned forward and kissed him.  
“Oh, that woman. Didn't we just do the carnal thing this morning?”  
“Is she wearing you out already?”  
“No fucking way. Just checking I'm on the same page.” He kissed her back. “Be gentle...” he whispered, making her laugh.   
“Oh no, I'm not in the mood for gentle, in fact, I'm feeling positively feral...roawrrrr.”

The plane was still over the American continent, southeast of the Barrier where it crossed over the Texas-Mexican border, skirting towards the west coast, following the line of the coastal highlands. There was no reason to suspect a problem, but they hadn't factored in outside sources.  
The missile exploded close to the path of the plane, while not actually hitting it. The end result was the same as if it had. The plane shuddered violently, waking the adults and jolting them out of bed. William started to howl, the lights within the plane flickering as the aircraft tried to compensate for the close explosion. Jamie left Mitch to collect William while she staggered to find a control tablet.  
By the time Mitch appeared with William strapped into a baby capsule, Jamie was sitting in one of the chairs, already strapped in, her fingers dancing over the tablet screen. Mitch concentrated on getting William secured, then himself, leaving Jamie to do what she could. The plane was pitching and tumbling, anything loose being tossed about. William was still howling, adding to the general cacophony of sound, the sudden drops, and shudders making it a nauseating ride.   
“It's the E.M.P.dampener,” Jamie announced, shouting to be heard.  
“We have an E.M.P. dampener?”   
“It's supposed to block the effects of an electromagnetic pulse,” she explained.  
“Yeah, I get the concept, but that could kick the plane back into the Stone Age!” Mitch waited for the jolting to lessen a little. “So, someone shot an E.M.P. at us?”  
“I don't know if we were the target, but we just hit the blast radius,” Jamie told him, gritting her teeth when the plane bucked, hitting turbulence as it dived for the ground.  
“Okay, so the dampener has an alarm on it that tells you when it's working?”   
Jamie's fingers continued to swiped and expand the information on the tablet. “No. The alarm tells me that it's not working. It's supposed to block the effects of the pulse, but maybe the blast was too strong.”  
“How the fuck did it get high enough to be anywhere near us?” Mitch yelled above the noise.   
Jamie worked, addressing the red highlighted faults cluttering up the screen. As alarms were shut off, and systems rebooted or shunted to allow subsystems to come online, the noise level lowered.   
“It must have been fired from a ground installation or...or a mobile missile launcher!”  
As she transferred the electronic controls to manual, she started to actually 'fly' the plane, gaining some control over their descent, pulling the nose up and stabilizing the flight path into a glide towards the ground, rather than a death spiral with no hope of landing. The shuddering remained, but they were no longer tumbling. When the plane was relatively stable, she got out of her seat and staggered to one of the control panels on the wall, a larger version of her tablet. There she punched more buttons.  
“If the E.M.P. took out everything with a circuit, how can you still be using the tablet controls?” Mitch asked, shouting from across the room.  
“The plane is prepared for that. Some of the systems are shielded for just such an eventuality.” She turned to look at him. “I need to leave you to take care of William. I have to go to the cockpit. This is not going to be a gentle landing.”  
Mitch understood what she was saying. “William needs his mother!”  
Jamie cast a glance over her shoulder at him. “I know. I love you too. Stay strapped in until the plane comes to a halt.”  
Mitch watched her go, running as best she could towards the nose of the plane. He looked down at his child, his face red and eyes screwed tight shut, mouth open to howl his protest at being jostled about violently. He brought his free hand over to rest on the child's head.  
“Sorry, you'll have all the cuddles you want when this is over, but for now we have to hope Jamie, your mama can pull off another miracle and get this crate on the ground without crashing. Hang in there, kiddo, not long now...”  
He closed his eyes, the sight of the clouds whipping past the windows just making the whole experience worse somehow. The plane was never designed to be a giant glider and fought the limited controls, pitching and yawing as it fought the flaps.   
The view outside the plane showed endless vistas of folded mountain ranges and brown ground rushing ever faster towards them, the clouds now high above them. The manual controls fought her efforts but they managed to clear the mountain range and she had the landing gear down. Now she just needed to find somewhere to land. The plane continued to drop, the altimeter winding backward at a faster and faster rate, the ground rising up in greater clarity the closer they got. Desperate to see anything that could be used for a landing strip, she scanned the ground, finally seeing a darker line that suggested a highway cutting in a straight line across the basin. It was their only chance. Using the abused flaps to further slow their forward momentum, she fought the rudder to bring the plane around to line up with the highway still a long way down, but coming up fast.  
They would only have the one chance, so she put all other thoughts aside and lined up the nose with the dotted white line noting that there didn't appear to be much wind at ground level, the rising wall of hills closing in around them as they approached the ground, which was now rushing past. Jamie tried to pick out individual features as she kept the plane in line with the highway. She prayed there was no one traveling that stretch because there would be no way to avoid a collision. The plane landed heavily, bounced a little then settled on the black tarmac, Jamie applying the brakes while keeping the nose centered on the white line to avoid veering off into the scrub either side of the road. They were slowing, at last, the road remaining straight, the landscape still rushing past but no longer a blur.   
As a last resort, she deployed the emergency brake, a pair of parachutes deploying out the back of the plane to further slow it, the jolt of the parachutes inflating making her glad of the well-padded chair and broad seatbelts. Within seconds they were shuddering to a halt, a cloud of dust billowing around the plane, masking the view for a while until it cleared. The sudden silence and lack of movement were so unexpected, she thought she'd gone deaf for a moment, then a whoop from behind her reminded her of her passengers. Undoing the safety web, she climbed shakily out of the seat and walked back into the body of the plane. William was no longer howling, meaning that Mitch had probably unbuckled him from the baby seat and was giving him a well-earned cuddle. That was the sight that greeted her when she staggered into the lounge, collapsing onto the carpet in relief to see everyone alive and well.   
“You did it!” Mitch grinned at her, bouncing William on his shoulder, the baby happy now that his world was no longer so noisy or frightening. Mitch walked over to where she sat on the carpet and lowered himself and William down to join her. Jamie took William, snuggling her nose in his hair, inhaling his sweet baby smell, that alone doing a lot to calm her down. Mitch lay on his side, head propped up by his hand, watching Jamie snuggle with her son. When she felt able to let her son go, she lay him down between them, leaning across to kiss Mitch, glad that somehow they'd come through safe and sound.   
They stayed there, laying on the plush carpet, William between them, for some time. Eventually, Jamie sat up, her hands no longer shaking.  
“Believe it or not, we are actually prepared for what just happened. It's just going to take a little time to repair all the damaged circuits before we can get back in the air again.”  
Mitch stayed laying on his side, one hand playing patty-cake with the baby.   
“Do we know where we are?”  
Jamie shrugged. “Somewhere in Mexico? I'm only guessing. I'm thankful it didn't happen when we were over the sea.”

“I'm taking it we landed on a road?” Mitch asked later, William back in his crib for a nap.  
Jamie nodded. “We're a bit of a traffic hazard at the moment. Can't change that until I can get the engines online again. I have to access how well the E.M.P. shielding worked before I have a complete picture of our status and how long for repairs.”  
“Would it be sarcastic to say that the shielding didn't appear to work very well?”  
Jamie shook her head. “Actually, it worked very well. Almost textbook. I'll know more once I do a damage report.”  
“Need help?”  
Jamie shook her head again. “No. I'll go faster knowing William is taken care of. Call me if he needs a feed. I think we've used up all the expressed milk reserves.”  
“Okay. But yell if you need a hand,” he chided.  
“I will.” She sent him a reassuring smile then was gone, fingers already moving over the tablet in her hand. 

“I would appear we landed here.” Jamie pointed to a spot on a map laid out on the table top.   
“And where is the Barrier in relation to this?”  
“Here.”  
“So we're on the wrong side, which accounts for why there's no traffic on the road.”  
“Could have something to do with it. We're not that far from the Barrier, per se, but there is a mountain range between us and it.”  
Mitch pulled at his bottom lip, his eyes on the map. “Closest town or any sort of civilization?”  
Jamie pointed again and he leaned forward to see better. “So this was our projected flight path?” he waited for Jamie to nod, indicating the red line crossing diagonally across the map. “And we are roughly in this area, here?”  
“On this road,” she used her finger to indicate the tortuously winding road marked on the map. “And technically we are just north of the Durango-Chihuahua state border. We landed directly on the Hidalgo Del Parral, also known as Federal highway twenty-four.” He paused to let his eyes wander over the map. “And no major centers of population?”  
“Nope. Mostly desert and mountains. Small rural towns, farming communities maybe, I don't really know. I've never been to Mexico, but from what I saw on the approach, it's scrub and cactus as far as the eye can see.”  
Mitch was looking at the map closely. “The road runs out! It just comes to an end.”  
“Yeah. I imagine any road off a state highway is just dirt. We're rather a long way from anywhere, surrounded by a lot of nothing much.”  
Mitch looked up and met her eyes, seeing the worry in them. “What's the damage? Are we going to be able to take off again?”  
“We got off fairly lightly. The E.M.P blast was close enough to cause some of the avionics to short out, causing the free fall, but it was also far enough away to not seriously damage all the crucial electronics. I was advised, during the remodel of the plane, to create a Faraday Cage all around the fuselage to help mitigate an E.M.P attack. That's the only thing that stopped us becoming a smear on the ground, and allowed me to continue to fly the plane manually to a safe landing. It will take time and I'll have to test as I go, but I have the parts in the hold, along with the tools to make the repairs.”  
“What about the batteries?”  
“Ah, well we're in luck there. I have a backup solar charger that will supply all the power we need until I can get the batteries recharged again.”  
“Okay, that all sounds workable, but why do you look still worried?”  
“Water.”  
“Water? Don't we have a couple of tons of the stuff onboard?”  
“We do have quite a bit, I'm just concerned for how long we're going to be stranded.”  
“Well, we won't be mobbed by journalists out here, so that's a plus.”  
Jamie rolled her eyes and gave him the look. “Funny. We're also very exposed here, so things could get hot and if there's a dust storm it could foul the engines.”  
“Don't they have dust covers for that situation?”  
“Yeah. But at the airport, not in the middle of a desert.”  
“Couldn't we make some?”  
“If you care to take a look out the window, you'll see we're pretty fucking high up.”  
“We have the truck, we could stand on the roof. Look, I'm not saying it's going to be easy, but we could improvise and make do if it makes the difference between taking off and not taking off.”  
“Okay. Number one, make shrouds for the engines to protect from the worst of the sand.”  
“Check.”  
“Then, number two, work on replacing those circuits affected by the EMP blast.”  
“Check.”  
“Number three, fly the fuck out of here and find an airport.”  
“Couldn't we just continue on where we left off, and fly to New Zealand?”  
Jamie let out a sigh. “Look. I'm not a plane engineer, I'm barely adequate ground crew at a pinch. The best I can say is this - I'll get this bird off the ground and back east, to somewhere they have all we need to have her thoroughly checked over before we attempt to fly over thousands of miles of ocean.”  
Mitch shrugged. “Point taken. You look after William, I'll go down in the hold and find something to cover the engines and a shit ton of rope.”  
“There's a fair bit in the truck, and a couple of tarpaulins as well. Start there first.”  
“Aye, aye Captain.” He paused before turning away. “We'll be fine. We've plenty of supplies, including water and we kinda know what we're doing. The instruction manual will help with stuff we don't know.” He flashed her a grin then left, Jamie shaking her head at him before turning away and heading off to check up on William.

Mitch accumulated a heap of supplies in the loading bay, the material to make the shrouds on one side, the ropes to tie them on, on the other. The instruction manual detailed the dimensions they'd need so while William slept in his cot on the upper landing of the loading bay, his parents spread out each tarpaulin to check how big they were before assigning one to each of the engines. They only had three, so a search was made of the cargo space in the belly of the plane. Jamie was delighted and astonished to find a full set of engine plugs folded among the cargo nets, negating the need for the tarpaulins, the bright red covers even labeled to tell the installer which way up and which engine they belonged to. They opened one of the side loading doors and threw the brightly coloured, relatively lightweight covers to the ground. Mitch then went back up to the loading bay and lowered the back ramp, taking the truck around to where the covers lay and picking them up. There was little wind, Mitch finding it relatively easy to place the first engine plug in place, despite the opening to the jet engine towering over him. The front plug sat snuggly in the space, keeping anything but the finest dust out of the intake manifold. The second engine, further along the wing was a harder task, but by standing on the bonnet of the truck he could comfortably reach the intake and fit the plug inside. He then did the reverse for the rear of the engines, tucking the shaped plugs into the gaps, using the truck as his ladder. That done, he drove around to the other side and repeated the exercise. It took him a little less than an hour, a job he'd originally anticipated taking all day if they used the ropes and plastic sheets. With the first item of necessity ticked off their list, Mitch could take over babysitting duties while Jamie concentrated on tracing the damaged circuits and fitting replacements. 

Sitting in an abandoned ranch house, surrounded by stolen and looted electronics and weaponry, Abigail Westbrook traced the path of the downed plane, the radar and transponder signal cutting off when it dipped below her line of sight and behind a mountain ridge. She'd checked with binoculars but saw no sign of smoke from burning wreckage, so assumed the red-haired bitch had found a way to land the plane. Unfortunate, but not unforseen. She scanned the airways for any attempt by the plane to call for help, but heard nothing. Whatever damage had been done, the bitch must think she could repair it. It would still take her time, and Abigail was confident she'd reach the crash sight before the object of her revenge could take off again. Marking the probable location of the downed plane on a map, Abigail started to gather what she needed, packing it into a stolen truck, heavily modified and augmented for the desert conditions, and indicated for her companions to follow. As the truck bounced down the dusty road, a pack of thirty to forty Razorback hybrids jogged along in the wake of the grit thrown up by the tires, spreading out either side and keeping pace effortlessly. Abigail checked her rearview mirror and smiled broadly to see her pets following faithfully behind. The bitch was in for an unpleasant surprise.


	10. What Goes Around, Comes Around

Part One – The Plane, Federal Highway 24, Chihuahua, Mexico.

Mitch was playing with William when he sensed something. He couldn't pinpoint what it was, but he felt uneasy, William apparently sensing it too, the sunny baby of a second ago turning into a wailing, inconsolable bundle. Mitch picked him up and walked to one of the side windows. The view was limited to that side of the plane, showing miles of scrub-covered ground until the ground rose to meet a wall of rocky ridge bordering the valley bottom, where they sat.   
William settled somewhat in his father's arms, jamming a small fist in his mouth as Mitch walked to the other side of the plane to look out that side, seeing nothing but long shadows cast by the plane, the day winding down to dusk. The whole valley basin would soon be in shadow, further limiting their view. Frustrated at seeing nothing, Mitch walked down the hallway towards the cockpit and the view out the front windscreen. His persistence was rewarded with the disconcerting view of a dusty truck parked on the road in front of the plane, the vehicle sitting smack in the middle of the highway, straddling the center line, just as they were. He couldn't see who was behind the wheel, his eyes narrowing as he tried to pierce the layer of dust coating the truck windscreen. As he stood watching, the driver of the truck stepped out and started to walk towards the plane. The figure was swathed in a strange, flowing garment that the slight wind picked up and flapped around their legs as they walked. From their gait he deduced it was a woman, her face obscured by a cowboy hat jammed well down on her head. The feeling of uneasiness only increased and he turned to trace his steps back to the lounge, William quiet in his arms. Jamie was in the bowels of the plane, working on tracing a burnt-out circuit, apparently oblivious to the threat walking towards them. Still carrying his son, Mitch negotiated his way down the ladder into the cargo hold, following the sound of someone swearing to where Jamie was crouched, peering into a small space with a torch, the operational manual at her side.   
“Hey,” Mitch called out, drawing her attention from the current problem.   
“Whoever wrote this manual is going to get one hell of a ticking off from me when I lay my hands on them...” she looked up, noting that Mitch had William with him. “Something wrong?”  
Mitch had opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of someone banging on the cargo hatch precluded his explanation. They both turned to look at where the sound was coming from.   
“Open up in the plane!” a voice shouted, Mitch feeling a trickle of ice flow down his spine. Jamie also recognized the voice, rising to her feet and brandishing the screwdriver in her hand.   
“Why would we want to do that, Abigail?” Jamie shouted, not prepared to mince words.   
The woman outside laughed. “Because if you don't, I'll just get my pets to rip a new hole in the side of this aircraft and you'll never be able to take off. Is that a good enough reason?”  
Jamie cursed. “Take William upstairs and hide him as best you can,” she whispered to Mitch. “She knows I'm aboard, but not who else.”  
Mitch nodded and hurried away, not happy to leave Jamie, but seeing no alternative. Jamie waited for him to be out of sight before turning back to the hatch.  
“Just opening it now, hang on.” She dropped the screwdriver, making noise for the sake of it. Then she turned the lever on the cargo door and pushed it outward, the door swinging upwards and outwards, acting like a canopy. Abigail stood on the roadway, hands on hips, legs apart, hat pushed back off her face to hang down her back.  
“About time. How are repairs going?” Abigail asked, grinning up at Jamie.   
“What do you want, Abigail?”  
“You dead for starters,” Without warning the woman pulled out a pistol and shot her nemesis at point blank range. Jamie fell back into the hold, crumpled and lifeless on the floor, blood quickly soaking her blouse and the floor below her.   
Abigail called over a couple of the hybrid, standing on their backs to raise herself high enough to grip the edge and pull herself through the hatch. She stared down at the woman she'd just killed. “Well. That's was easy,” she drawled.   
Leaving the corpse where it lay, she walked to the ladder leading up into the plane and went up the rungs, emerging at the base of the spiral staircase leading to the upper level.   
In the hold below a Razorback jumped nimbly into the plane, sniffing around the body curiously for several seconds, another hybrid entering behind the first. Soon there were half a dozen animals roaming around the interior, all of them pausing to sniff the body on the floor. Like the woman who had entered before them, they found their way into the body of the plane and started to spread out, seeking Abigail, but also looking for anyone else aboard. 

Mitch had heard the gunshot and feared the worst. Fearing for his son's life, he started to put together a survival pack with the thought of leaving the plane and getting as far away from the woman as possible. The growl of a hybrid put a quick end to any ideas of escape. 

Abigail was standing in the center of the laboratory area when her creatures herded her quarry down the stairs and into her presence. He didn't look happy to be there.  
“Charles, how kind of you to join me, and what is this?” Abigail reached out a hand to touch the baby, but Mitch moved just enough to prevent it. “I see. That's how you want to play this?”  
“Where's Jamie?” Mitch asked.  
“Dead. Is this her child? Of course, it must be. You and your friends been messing about with biology again?”  
“Something like that.” Mitch bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself reacting to anything the woman said. Abigail was a snake and would say anything if it caused pain to her victims.   
Abigail seated herself on one of the swivel chairs. “I'm guessing you've found a way around your programming, which is why you're here and not with me. I wonder what Mitch would think about that...” she held up a device, small and compact with a series of light on it. Holding it aloft she pressed one of the buttons and watched his face.

Mitch blinked and blinked again. Confusion clouded his thoughts for those few seconds, the baby in his arms setting up a cry...wait, baby? He looked around and saw he was back on the plane, the surrounding familiar, even if seeing all the Razorbacks sitting around, and Abigail in front of him was not at all familiar.  
“Um...I seem to have skipped a few memos. Er...last I remember I was in a shack somewhere?”  
Abigail waved her hand nonchalantly. “You have been out of things for a little bit. Just to catch you up – I rescued you off Pangaea, patched you up and put a bio drive in your head. That little gizmo allowed me to switch you, Mitch Morgan, off and replace you with Charles Duncan, a personality construct tailored for my needs.” Abigail tapped her chin with the remote. “That would be about...give or take...nearly eight years ago now.”  
Mitch goggled at her. “I've been out of it for eight years? Then who's baby is this?”  
Abigail smirked. “Oh, that's yours too, well not you, per se, more like Charles Duncan's baby.”  
Mitch screwed his face up. “And who's the mother?”  
Abigail grinned unpleasantly. “That would be one Jamie Campbell. You remember her?”  
Mitch's face went slack with shock. “This is Jamie's baby?” He looked around the room. “Where is she?”  
“I just shot her. Her body is lying in the cargo hold.”  
The baby howled, his father's grip on him bordering on painful. Mitch snapped out of his shock and relaxed his grip a little.   
“Jamie's dead?” Mitch enunciated, his voice devoid of emotion. His memory supplied the last image he had of her, half turned towards him, looking back at him with love and the expectation that he would follow her soon. With that memory bolstering him, he turned his back on Abigail, ignored the hybrids scattering out of his way, and went to find somewhere comfortable to sit down and try and assimilate what he knew, what he'd been told, and what he held in his arms.   
Abigail watched him lurch away and considered her job done for the time being. Her pets sat around her, waiting for her command, their eyes watching her every move. 

Abigail had inspected the plane, peered into the bedrooms, noted personal effects, opened the fridges to look at their contents, all with a view to moving in. There was the small matter of the body decaying in the hold, but that would keep for a few days before it started to smell. Maybe she'd leave if for her pets to devour, wouldn't that be a fitting end. Her exploration brought her back to where her former helpmate Charles Duncan, now switched to Mitch Morgan, the original, sat cradling his motherless child, the baby sound asleep on his father's shoulder, oblivious to the loss of his mother as yet.   
Mitch didn't look up when she entered the room, her silent security guards padding in behind her. He did look up when one of the beasts walked up to him, its size putting it at eye level with him sitting down, and leaned forward to sniff at him. Its dark gaze never faltered, not even when it snaked out a tongue and licked his face, tasting him. Apparently satisfied, it turned away and sat down on its haunches, tongue lolling like a dog.   
“My pet likes you. Can sense the hybrid DNA in your blood, senses that you are like me.”  
“Apart from a brief memory of you leaning over me at the shack, I don't know who the fuck you are, or how I got hybrid DNA in me.”  
Abigail laughed lightly, highly amused. “Of course, you really don't know. You were injected with hybrid DNA when my pets attacked you back on Pangaea when you so nobly sacrificed yourself so your friends could take off in the plane and go rescue your daughter, Clementine.”  
Mitch drew in a sharp breath. “Clementine? Is she alive?”  
“Oh, yes. Your friends got there well in time. The girl is now in her late teens and living with your father.”  
“Max? Why the fuck...I specifically said...never mind.” He clamped his lips together. It was obvious he'd missed out on a shit ton of stuff while masquerading as Charles Duncan. So many questions swirled around in his brain. How did he end up here with Jamie and a baby? Was he the father of the child? If he hadn't been himself before, why had Jamie taken up with him, and when? Where were their friends, Jackson and Abe, Dariela and, God help him, Logan? Was, in fact, Logan the father of the child, not him? If so, where was he? How could he be missing eight years of his life and remember nothing?  
He felt dizzy, as if his brain was on overload, only the comforting warmth and weight of the child on his shoulder grounded him and gave him something solid to cling to. His emotions, so battered by all the recent revelations, fixed on one event that sent cold fire sizzling down his veins. Jamie lay dead and cold in the hold of the plane, shot and killed by the woman sitting in the chair opposite. Not only had she robbed Jamie of her life, she had robbed his son of his mother, and robbed him, Mitch Morgan of eight years of his life. His heart froze into a solid block, his blood roaring through his body like lava. With a calm he didn't feel, he got up, the child still slumbering on his shoulder.   
“I'm just going to find somewhere to put him down,” he announced.  
Abigail waved a hand towards the sleeping quarters. “Try the first bedroom, there's a cot in there.”  
He walked like a robot towards the first bedroom, sliding the door back and looking over the room itself. This was where he slept, beside Jamie, their son in a cot at the side. The imprint of their bodies was still there in the pillows, the rumpled sheets. On automatic, he lowered his son into the crib and made sure he was settled before walking away, his face expressionless. 

Abigail watched him approach, seemingly caught up in his thoughts, his face devoid of all emotion.

He went behind the bar and reached for a glass and bottle, noting absently that both had a layer of dust, indicating that drinking was no longer his thing, but on this occasion, he was going to indulge. The woman had also risen up out of her chair and approached the bar. He lifted a glass and she nodded, so he poured her one too.   
He waited, read her body language, noted the exact moment she relaxed, reaching for the glass with its contents of golden spirits, secure in her belief that she held all the cards.  
He lunged forward, wrapping both hands around her head and pulling forward, slamming her face against the wooden bar edge, blood flying everywhere as her nose was smashed and forced back into her brain, killing her instantly. He let go and she slithered to the floor, out of sight, landing with a thump on the floor. It had all happened so fast the hybrids hadn't had a chance to react, Mitch not moving after committing the deed, only lifting his own, blood-spattered glass, and downing the whiskey in one gulp.  
The hybrids stood up as one, eyeing the man at the bar, but not moving or taking retaliatory action for the death of their pack leader. This was the natural order of life, to become a pack leader you had to kill the pack leader. Plain and simple. Mitch was now their pack leader. 

Mitch dragged the body to one of the exterior escape hatches, searching it briefly and extracting the remote before tipping it out the door, the body falling to the ground and landing with a bone-breaking crunch on the dusty road surface below. He stared down at the woman, looking like a twisted, broken doll sprawled on the tarmac. He felt nothing, not for her, not for himself, nothing. He went to the bedroom to check on the baby, but he was still fast asleep, peaceful and unsullied by what his father had just done. Followed silently by the pack of hybrid, he made his way down to the cargo hold to find Jamie, seeing the crumpled body lying as the woman said, in a pool of blood. He sat down heavily beside her, his hand reaching out to touch her bright hair and smooth over her lax features. She looked younger as if death had given her the gift of youth in that final moment. Pain ripped through him, loss and grief sending shards of agony through his heart. It was unbearable. If this was the life he'd come back to, he didn't want it. His alter-ego, the Charles Duncan that the woman had spoken about, he had lived this life with Jamie, the child was his, not Mitch Morgan's, not the man he'd been. Duncan deserved to live this life, take care of his son, at least know what had happened to the woman he'd shared the past few years with.   
With tears running down his face, Mitch Morgan committed his final act, lifting the remote control and pressing the button. Life for him turned to black. 

Mitch blinked, then blinked again, shaking his head slowly, his thoughts disorientated and confused. He'd been up in the body of the plane, facing Abigail, holding William and surrounded by the hybrids. Now he was down in the hold, his face wet and Jamie lying beside him. Jamie!  
He moved and reached out to feel for a pulse. It was faint, but it was there, that was all he needed to know. He knelt and gathered her up in his arms, then eased her onto his shoulder in a fireman's lift before negotiating the ladder to bring them both up to the next floor. Once there he carried her through to the medical center, laying her down on the padded gurney, strapping her in place to prevent her moving. With Jamie secured he looked around, noticing that the hybrids had been silently shadowing him, keeping their distance, but watching his movements. If they weren't attacking, they weren't important, he told himself before running up the stairs, two at a time to find his son. He moved into the bedroom, giving himself a quick glance at his sleeping baby before hurrying out of the room to go work on the child's mother.   
He worked as quickly as he could, cutting away the blood-soaked clothing to expose the wound, the bullet lodged in her scapula having just missed her lungs, grazing a rib, shattering her collarbone and stopped before passing completely through. He hoped Jamie would stay out of it while he worked, cutting away the flesh to expose the path of the bullet, removing any splinters of bone, pulling out what was left of the slug, while searching for bits of metal or bone compacted into the wound. Once satisfied it was as clean as he could make it, he knitted the flesh back together, stitching the wound closed before placing a dressing over it. He hoped, as hard as he could hope for anything, that Jamie's unique physiology would work as well as it did before, and perform its miracle of healing her in record time. When he was done with the dressing, he once more carried her up the stairs and laid her in their bed, stripping off her remaining clothes and leaving her under the covers. He went to smooth her hair off her face but noticed his hands were liberally coated with blood. He'd worn gloves when dealing with his patient, so where did this other blood come from? He went and washed up, taking a moment to decompress from the adrenaline high he'd been running on. When he re-entered the bedroom, one of the hybrid Razorbacks sat in the doorway.  
“Okay, plug-ugly, where is Abigail?”  
The hybrid moved as he approached, flanking him when he entered the upstairs lounge. Mitch noticed the open hatchway at once and walked over to peer out. He sucked in a sudden breath when he saw the body crumpled on the road. It was a long way down. He had a sudden memory of Abigail holding up a small device, was that the reason he couldn't remember what had happened? Had he been switched back to Original Mitch, and he'd killed Abigail? Looking at the floor, he could make out a blood trail from the wet bar to the open doorway. From that evidence alone, it appeared that Original Mitch had killed Abigail at the bar, slamming her head into the edge of the hardwood, then dragged her body to the doorway and dumped her out. So why had he used the remote to switch himself back to him, the new Mitch Morgan? Why had he effectively committed suicide?  
A whining snuffle from one of the Razorbacks recalled him to the current situation and the need to take control. He went to the open hatch and shut it, noting that the shadows were sliding across the valley floor, the presage to dusk and nightfall. He then walked down to the vehicle bay and lowered the ramp. He walked out and around the base of the plane, approaching where Abigail lay, her body contorted into unnatural angles. Every one of the hybrids followed along behind, loping down the ramp and sitting in a semi-circle around their former and current pack leader.   
As a final confirmation he felt for a pulse, knowing that Abigail would be expecting to be revived by the hybrid serum, but the damage done was irreparable, Original Mitch had made damn sure of that. Abigail was dead with no hope of revival.   
He turned away from the dead body and looked up, feeling the multiple eyes on him, waiting for him to give a command. Unconsciously he gave a signal for the pack leader to dispose of the remains, the hybrids reacting instantly to his projected thought, pouncing on the dead body and starting to rip it apart. Sick to his stomach, he trudged back to the plane and walked up the ramp, closing it behind him. He then went down to the cargo hold and shut the loading hatch still open, securing the plane from any further invasion. As he turned to leave, his boot caught something and sent it skittering across the floor. Curious, he went to look for it, finding it and picking it up. It was the remote Abigail had used to activate the bio drive and return the Original Mitch to the world. He carried it out of the hold and put it down on a bench top before jogging up the stairs to see how his son and wife were doing. 

Jamie drifted up out of the comfortable blackness to hear her son gurgling and chortling nearby. She opened her eyes and blinked lazily up at the roof of the bedroom, orientating herself easily, but puzzled as to location, as the last thing she remembered was Abigail pointing a gun at her, a flash, pain and then nothing.   
“Mitch?”  
“Hey, William, mummy's awake at last. Shall we go jump on her?” Her vision was filled with her baby son being flown over her by his father, the baby chortling happily. Jamie smiled up at him and went to move back against the pillows, a tightness around her shoulder drawing her attention. She reached up with her other hand and encountered bandaging. Her puzzled eyes swiveled to meet her husbands, who held their son up against his shoulder, the baby's legs kicking up and down.  
“Abigail shot me!”  
“She did. Left you for dead in the hold.”  
Jamie's eyes darted around the room. “Are we prisoners?”  
“Nope. She's dead. Razorback dog food.”  
She levered herself upright. “How long have I been out?”  
Mitch shrugged. “A couple of hours, it's getting dark out.”  
Jamie looked over at the windows, noting the lack of light. “Oh. So what did I miss?”  
“Ironically, I wasn't there to see what happened, but I can guess from the evidence.”  
“What do you mean, you weren't here, where were you?”  
Mitch sighed. “Abigail switched me off and brought back Original Mitch.”  
Jamie gaped. “Original Mitch? You mean the Mitch we thought was dead, the Mitch you replaced?”  
He winced at her use of words, but they were appropriate so he let it pass.   
“Yup. That one.”  
“But...but how is it you are here, and not him?” she said it quite matter-of-factly, not deliberately wanting to hurt him, just understand.   
“From what I can tell, he didn't like what he found when he was returned, killed Abigail and dumped her out of the plane, then went down to the hold where you lay, apparently dead, and...to put it bluntly...committed suicide by deliberately pressed the button to revert back to me. When I came to, I'd been crying. William was in his cot in the bedroom, the plane was full of hybrids, Abigail was dead and you had been shot.”  
“Oh, poor Mitch. It must have seemed like a nightmare. Awakening after eight years to be confronted by Abigail, who he wouldn't have known, only to be told I was dead, the last time we'd seen each other was just before he sacrificed himself to save us.”  
“And he was left, literally, holding the baby.”  
“So he would not have known who the baby's father was, and I'm sure Abigail took pleasure in rubbing it in that I was the mother. He would have been devastated. To him, it would look like I moved on without him. He might have even thought that Logan was the father. Poor, poor man.”  
Mitch looked sympathetic. “You told me he carried around a load of guilt on his shoulders, your death would have seemed like the last straw.”  
“So he chose to switch himself off...he must have been in such pain...” She started to cry, mourning again for the brave, emotionally damaged man she'd loved all those years ago.   
Mitch carefully shifted his son to enable him to sit next to Jamie and offer her his spare shoulder for her to soak, their free hands joining between them.  
“You could have him back if you wanted to. I have the remote Abigail used...”  
Jamie's head shot up. “And lose you?! That would just make Mitch's sacrifice worthless. He knew what he was doing, he knew he should have been dead eight years ago. It was nothing but cruel to bring him back after all this time.” She wiped at her face, sniffing back the tears. “I know that all sounds like crazy talk, but Mitch sacrificed himself all those years ago for a reason, a purpose. He now knows that his sacrifice worked. His daughter was saved, the team was saved, that's all he needed to know. Finding me dead was a cruel twist. To bring him back now and try to explain all that had happened in the intervening years...it's impossible. It wouldn't be fair to either of you to try and 'share' the same body, the same life. Mitch had a life, a full life for over forty, nearly fifty years. He made a choice and I honor him for it.”  
They lay together while the sky outside changed from light to dark, the sparkle of stars brighter and more numerous in the clear mountain air. Over the ridge a half moon rose, flooding the valley with cold, grey light, bathing the plane and washing out the few, pale lights visible from within. 

Jamie had fully recovered from her injury twenty-four hours later, a small pucker on her shoulder all that remained of the wound intended to end her life. Instead, Abigail's life had ended, violently and suddenly at the hands of a dead man. The bio drive remote was sealed in the plane's safe in an envelope that explained its purpose and function together with instruction for it not to be fiddled with until after the end of Mitch Morgan's life.   
Once Jamie was on her feet, she worked harder than ever to get the plane airworthy again, the job taking a week to find and test all the damaged circuits caught up in the E.M.P blast. While she worked on that problem, Mitch cleared the truck off the highway, walking the length to check for any other issues like cracks in the road, washouts or debris likely to cause the plane to falter when they finally took off.   
The hybrids had disappeared that first night and were never seen again. Abigail's remains had been dragged by the pack into the scrub, so there was nothing for Mitch to bury the next morning, much to his relief. Where they went to, he neither knew nor cared less.

Six days after they landed in the desert, the plane was ready for her first engine fire up. The brightly colored plugs had done their job and were now packed away in the hold. All the lights that should be showing up on the board were doing so, the baby was in his carrier and strapped in. Jamie was in the cockpit, just in case, and Mitch sat, seatbelt around his middle, next to his son in the upstairs lounge.   
“Testing engine one.” Jamie's voice came over the intercom, letting him know what she was doing. The rumble of the first engine sounded like sweet music to their ears. In quick succession the other three engines coughed into life, the brakes straining to hold the plane still while they blew the dust off.   
“Time to see if my handiwork is any good. Hold on, we're taking off!”  
The plane shuddered and shook, trundling over the highway, accelerating all the time. Eventually, Jamie raised the nose and they were airborne, the plane lifting off the ground and leaving the black strip of highway far below. The plane banked and they flew higher to clear the mountain ridge, heading northeast towards Dallas, Texas, the flight expected to take a little over two hours. With everything working normally, they were flying on autopilot again, no red lights appearing on the board to cause concern.   
Able to relax, her job done, Jamie contentedly fed her son while watching the latest news on the big screen. While on the ground they hadn't been able to get a signal, too hemmed in by the hills around them. Now they were in the air and back online with the world.   
Mitch soon joined her, handing her a mug of tea, William still feeding and ignoring the world around him.   
“So. Once we get the all-clear from Dallas, are we still on for New Zealand?” he asked, muting the sound of the news channel.   
“Hell, yeah. We should also get another damn medal for ridding the world of its own worst enemy.”  
“We probably should, but as we took no photos or kept any evidence, there's little to prove we did just that.”  
Jamie scowled, then her face cleared. “Who cares? I'm quite looking forward to seeing what New Zealand is all about. I've been told it's a country about the area of England but with a population less than the size of one English city!”  
“Hmmm. So, lots of countryside, not so many people. Sounds perfect. What about hybrid nests? I don't remember going there during my time as Duncan, but it could have been seeded before my time.”  
“Given the small population, it would hardly be worth the time to plant a nest and beacon there.”  
“Suppose not, another point in its favor then. What do they do there?”  
Jamie screwed up her face. “Not entirely sure, but they do a lot of filming there, all those sweeping empty landscapes make great backdrops, and they have mountains, I think, so there's bound to be a skifield or two.”  
“Do they get the world news there?” Mitch asked, showing his ignorance of the country.   
“For fuck's sake, it's a little sparsely populated, not the edge of the world. They have a prime minister and parliament, cars and planes, internet and television channels just like everyone else. It's just not crowded, and I was told they are pretty laid back about celebrities and stuff.”  
“That'll be a change. Do you think they've read your books down there?”  
Jamie shrugged. “Who knows, who cares? We'll hire a campervan and tour the country like any other tourists. We'll blend right in.”  
“Sounds like our kind of place.”

The shakedown flight to Dallas proved that Jamie had done her job well, the plane throwing out no red lights to indicate any problems with the engines or any of the subsystems affected by the E.M.P.  
Once more on the ground they refueled and had the tires checked, a quick diagnostic performed just to double check what they already knew. The plane was ready to carry them across the ocean to a new life in New Zealand. They spent time looking up all they could find on the country, learning about the new society they would be engaging with, in a day or so. They contacted the New Zealand embassy in Washington D.C to advise about their delayed arrival, the message passed on to those that needed to know in the US Embassy in the capital of the island nation, Wellington.  
With the paperwork sorted, again, and a new arrival time locked in, the family was ready to leave America for the foreseeable future.   
They had no doubt they'd return at some stage, and they could always take short holidays to Helsinki to catch up with Max and Clementine, as well as have them visit them once they were settled in New Zealand. For now, they let things remain fluid, preferring to see how things played out before making any further plans for the future. 

The flight took the best part of eighteen hours, but at the end they flew in over the lush green fields and blue water surrounding Auckland airport, landing gently on New Zealand soil for the first time. The tower directed them to an apron to park, sending a mobile staircase to assist with disembarking.   
Mitch opened the forward hatch at the knock from the ground staff, the man securing the platform to the plane before jogging down the stairs. A couple of figures could be seen walking across the tarmac towards the plane, the roar of other aircraft landing and taking off a background noise to their arrival.   
“You ready?” Mitch asked, holding their son against his shoulder. Jamie was finishing primping in front of a mirror. She turned to face him.  
“Will I do?” she asked, awaiting his judgment. He spent a few seconds letting his gaze rove over her features.   
“Beautiful.”  
She smiled and rose up on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek. “Love you too.” Then she twisted away and approached the open hatch, Mitch right behind her. Their timing was perfect, the two men reaching the bottom of the stairs just as Mitch and Jamie, hand in hand started their slow descent to the ground. At the bottom, one of the men held out his hand for Mitch to shake.

“Welcome to New Zealand, Dr. Morgan, Mrs. Morgan, we hope you enjoy your stay.”

The End.


End file.
